324 THE POEMS OP ANNE �Clar. My Lord, I must entreat you to retire, My fear and care, made me forgett my duty, And prudence tells me now, you must retire. �[He holds the Q. still in his arms. �Laur. Talk not of prudence, in this happy season. It must not, nay itt shall not here intrude; When in the feild, I'll make itt rule o're thousands, And in the Counsell, pleading for my Queen, Permitt itt to direct each word, and gesture, 130 �But Love, that only waits to catch those hours, Those few soft Hours, that fall in her wish'd absence, Must not be forc'd to quit the hard gain'd treasure. �[The Q. looking amaz'dly round. �Queen. Why am I thus, and tell me who are these ? My heart, and thoughts, are full of wild disorder, Heav'n grant no word has 'scap'd my troubl'd tongue, To make me wish, I ne'r had known itts use. �Clar. Pray be not seen, my lord, 'twill much disturb her, You've learnt already that which most concerns you, And for the future, trust to be inform'd 140 �Of what may make you still become more happy. �[He gives the Queen into her arms. �Laur. So, quitts the dying Miser, that rich store Which cruell fate, will lett him grasp no more, Promis'd, alike from present joys we move, To be in future paid our wealth, and Love, But 'tis necessity, not choice, prevails, And hopes n'er please, but when possession fails. [Exit. �Clar. Now gently raise, and lead her to her bed, 'Tis rest alone, that must restore her spirits. �[They convey her out. ��� �
