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Show 20 GUSTAFUSFASA, 9 SCENE The Camp. Enter Chriftiern, Attendants, Sec. Trollio meets him. Trollio. LL hail moft mighty of the Thrones of Europe ! The M o r n falutes thee with aufpi-cious Brightnefs, N o Vapour frowns prophetic on her Brow, But the clear Sun who travels with thy Arms Still fmiles, attendant on thy growing Greatnefs : His Evening Eye (hall fee thee peaceful Lord Of all the North, of utmoft Scandinavia; "Whence thou may'ft pour thy Conqucftt o'er the Earth, 'Till fartheft India glows beneath thy Empire, And Lyhia knows no regal N a m e but yours. Chrift. Yes, Trollio, 1 confefs the Godlike Thirft, Ambition, that wou'd drink a Sea of Glory. Bot what from Dalecarlia f Troll. Late laft Night, I fent a trufty Slave to Peter/on, And ^ i The Deliverer of his Country. 21 *Vnd honrly wait fome Tidings. Chrift. Think you \ Sure thz Wretches will not dare fuch quick Perdition. Troll. I think they will not-Tho' of old I k n ow them All born to Broils, the very Sont of Tumult 5 Wafte it their Wealth, and Mutiny their Birthright, And this the yearly Fever of their Blood, Their Holiday of War ; a Day apart, Torn out from Peace, and facred to Rebellion. Oft has their Battle hung upon the Brow Of yon wild Steep, a living Cloud of Mifchiefi, Pregnant with Plagues, and empty'd on the Heads Of many a Monarch. Chrift. Monarchs theywere not Pageants of Wax, the Moulding! Of the Populace, tame paultry Idols, fcepter'd up for Shew^ And garnifh'd into Royalty^ No Trollio Kings fheuld be felft If they wou'd find Obedience; the Bealt has fenfe enough to know his & Whcn n fhc, &™ trembles, and the But hiS°W,,flaCk' he cafts for l ^ t y ; w rh R i f "drtQrns for hi* that leaps With Boldnefs on his Back, F And fpurt him to the Bit. B S SCENH |