_Grim._ Curse on her voice! I must my prey forego;-- Thou, Philidel, shalt answer this below. [GRIMBALD _sinks with a Flash_.
_Arth._ At last the cheat is plain; The cloven-footed fiend is vanished from us; Good angels be our guides, and bring us back!
Phil. singing. _Come follow, follow, follow me._
Chor. _Come follow_, &c. _And me; and me; and me; and me._
Vers. 2 Voc. _And green-sward all your way shall be._
Vers. _No goblin or elf shall dare to offend ye._
Chor. _No, no, no_, &c. _No goblin or elf shall dare to offend ye._
Ver. 3 Voc. _We brethren of air_, _You heroes will bear_, _To the kind and the fair that attend ye._
[PHILIDEL and the Spirits go off singing, with King ARTHUR and the rest in the middle of them.
_Em._ No news of my dear love, or of my father?
_Mat._ None, madam, since the gaining of the battle. Great Arthur is a royal conqueror now, And well deserves your love.
_Em._ But now I fear He'll be too great, to love poor silly me, If he be dead, or never come again, I mean to die. But there's a greater doubt, Since I ne'er saw him here,-- How shall I meet him in another world?
_Mat._ I have heard something, how two bodies meet; But how souls join, I know not.
_Em._ I should find him, For surely I have seen him in my sleep; And then methought he put his mouth to mine, And eat a thousand kisses on my lips. Sure by his kissing I could find him out, Among a thousand angels in the sky.
_Mat._ But what a kind of man do you suppose him?
_Em._ He must be made of the most precious things; And I believe his mouth, and eyes, and cheeks, And nose, and all his face, are made of gold.
_Mat._ Heaven bless us, madam, what a face you make him! If it be yellow, he must have the jaundice, And that's a bad disease.
_Em._ Why then do lovers give a thing so bad As gold to women, whom so well they love?
_Mat._ Because that bad thing, gold, buys all good things.
_Em._ Yet I must know him better: Of all colours, Tell me which is the purest, and the softest.
_Em._ Why, then, since gold is hard, and yet is precious, His face must all be made of soft, black gold.
_Em._ No more; I have learned enough for once.
_Mat._ Here are a crew of Kentish lads and lasses Would entertain ye, till your lord's return, With songs and dances, to divert your cares.