Heigho ! Six dark and weary miles , and not yet at the camp . How tediously affliction paces !— Come , Gregory ! come on . Why , how you lag behind !— Poor simple soul ! what cares has he to weigh him down ? Oh , yes ,— he has served me from my cradle ; and his plain honest heart feels for his mistress 's fallen fortunes , and is heavy .— Come , my good fellow , come ! What , with only six miles this morning ?— Fie ! Then , you are weary of my service — you wish you had not followed me . Well , well ; we must to the wars , my good fellow . Then you had best return . We now , Gregory , are approaching King Henry 's camp . Do n't you observe the light breaking through the tents yonder ? Why , whither should I go , poor simpleton ? My home is wretchedness . The wars I seek have made it so ; they have robbed me of my husband ; comfort now is lost to me . Oh ! Gondibert , too faithful to a weak cause , our ruin is involved with our betters ! Peace ! peace , man !— half such a word , spoken at random , might cost your life . The times , Gregory , are dangerous . Ay , Gregory ; was it not unkind ? And yet I will not call him so — the times are cruel — not my husband .— His affection had too much thought in it to change . His regular love , corrected by the steady vigour of his mind , knew not the turbulence of boyish raptures ; but , like a sober river in its banks , flowed with a sweet and equal current . Oh ! it was such a placid stream of tenderness !— How long is it since your master left us , Gregory ? And , from that day to this , I have in vain cherished hopes of his return .— Fearful , no doubt , of being surprised , he keeps concealed .— Thus is he torn from me — torn from his children — poor tender blossoms ! too weak to be exposed to the rude tempest of the times , and leaves their innocence unsheltered ! To seek him in the camp . The Lancasters again are making head , here , in the north . If he have had an opportunity of joining them , ‘ tis more than probable he is in their army . Thither will we ;— and for this purpose have I doff 'd my woman 's habit ; leaving my house to the care of a trusty friend : and , thus accoutred , have led you , Gregory , the faithful follower of my sorrows , a weary journey half over England . What , man , afraid ! Come , come ; we run but little risk . Example , too , will animate us . The very air of the camp , Gregory , will brace your courage to the true pitch . Pshaw ! pr'ythee , man , put but a confident look on the matter , and we shall do , I warrant . A bluff and blustering outside often conceals a chicken heart . Mine aches , I am sure ! but I will hide my grief under the veil of airy carelessness .— Down , sorrow ! I 'll be all bustle , like the occasion . Come , Gregory ! Mark your mistress , man , and learn : see how she 'll play the pert young soldier . SONG .— ADELINE . The mincing step , the woman 's air , The tender sigh , the soften 'd note , Poor Adeline must now forswear , Nor think upon the petticoat . Since love has led me to the field , The soldier 's phrase I 'll learn by rote ; I 'll talk of drums , of sword and shield , And quite forget my petticoat . When the loud cannon 's roar I hear , And trumpets bray with brazen throat , With blust'ring , then , I 'll hide my fear , Lest I betray my petticoat . But ah ! how slight the terrors past , If he on whom I fondly dote , Is to my arms restored at last ;— Then — give me back my petticoat ! Tremble not now , Gregory , for your life ! Pooh ! pr'ythee — we are here among friends . Did you not mark the courtesy of the centinels ; who , upon signifying our intentions , bid us pass on , till we should find a leader , to whom we might tender our services ? Tut , tut , man ! your fears have made you blind ; this motley gentleman 's occupation has nothing terrible in it , I 'll answer for it — we will accost him . How now , fellow ? What , sirrah ? call you me fool ? Why do you follow the camp , fool ? I come , partly , indeed , among other purposes , to offer my weak aid to the army . If I could find your leader , I would vouch , too , for the integrity of this my follower , to be received into the ranks . Lead us to your General , and you shall be well remember 'd by me . Yes , madam , if it please you ; And , if my youth should lack ability , I do beseech you , let my honest will Atone for its defect :— yet I will say — And yet I would not boast — that a weak boy May show you that he is zealous in your service : For tho ’ but green in years , alas ! misfortune Has sorely wrung my heart !— and the proud world , — must know What ‘ tis to suffer , ere its thoughtless breast , Callous in happiness , can warm with feeling For others in distress . Whither shall I fly ! Fatigue and despair so wear and press me , I scarcely know what course to take . Even where chance shall carry us , Gregory . Then , here , my good fellow , we must rest ourselves . Good faith even here !— here , for necessity demands it , we must pass the night : and , in the morning , the ring-dove , cooing to its mate , will wake us to our journey homeward . This is a retreat , were but the mind at ease , a king might well repose in . Oh ! this world ! this world ! I am weary o n't ! ‘ Would I had been some villager !— ‘ twere well , now , to be a shepherd 's boy — he has no cares — but while his sheep browse on the mountain 's side , with vacant mind — happy in ignorance — he sinks to sleep , o'ercanopied with heaven , and makes the turf his pillow . Fie ! Gregory ; be content , be content . Think that we are happy in this forest , in having thus escaped the enemy 's fire , and be grateful in the change . Truce now , Gregory ; and consider how we can best dispose ourselves here , till the morning . Peace , fool ! nor let thy grosser mind , half fears , half levity , thus trifle with my feelings ! I have borne me up against affliction , till my o'ercharged bosom can contain no longer . Pr'ythee , no more , Gregory ! bear with , my pettishness — for , now and then , the tongue of disappointment will needs let fall some of the acid drops which misery sprinkles the heart withal . Why , why should fortune sport with a weak woman thus ! why , fickle goddess , wanton as boys in giddy cruelty , torture a silly fly before you kill it ? The thunder rolls awful on the ear , and strikes the soul with terror . The plunderer , too , perhaps catching the sulphurous flash , explores his wretched prey , and stalks to midnight murder . Is it thus you stand by me , Gregory ? I , at least , hoped you had valour enough to — Heavens ! when will my miseries end ! Speak , friends , what would you have ? If it is our lives you seek , they are so care worn , that in resigning them , we part with that which is scarce worth the keeping . I scarce know whither ; but I came far inland ; sent by my father to the wars ; his sword the sole inheritance his age can leave me . This man , a faithful servant of our cottage , in simple love has followed me . It is , it is my lord !— Oh Heaven ! my heart !— to find him thus , too !— Yet , to find him any how is transport . ‘ Tis brief .— I have been sorely wrung , sir , by the keen pressure of mishap .— I once had friends : they have left me . One whom I thought a special one — a noble gentleman — who pledged himself , by all the ties that are most binding to a man , to guard my uninstructed youth — even he , to whom my soul looked up ; whom , I might say , I loved as with a woman 's tenderness ,— even he has , now , deserted me . I hope not so , sir . Now , by my holy dame , he had none to suspect me . Yet , from the pressure of the time ,— some trying chance — but , I am wandering . This is my suit to you .— If you should find me fit to be entrusted with the secrets of your party , I could wish to be enrolled among you . Attempt not to dissuade me ; I am fix 'd . Yet there is one soft tie , which , when I think The cruel edge of keen necessity Has cut asunder , almost bursts my heart . That , which from my youth ,— For I have scarcely yet told one and twenty ,— Might , haply , not be thought ;— yet so it is ;— Know , then , that I am married . Oh ! witness for me , Heaven ! The pure and holy warmth that fills my bosom . And have you felt this ! Wherefore should I return ? return to witness The bitter load of misery , which circumstance Has brought upon my house ? My infant children — An if I thought ‘ twere so ?— Oh ! my dear , loved lord ! Here cease those pangs ;— here , in the ecstacy of joy , Behold your Adeline , now rushing to the arms Of a beloved husband . Well , and in safety . Nay , pr'ythee , now , no more of this :— Blot from thy memory all former sorrow :— Or , if we think o n't , be it at some moment , When calm content smiles round our happy board . And , trust me , now , I think our storms are over :— For , on my way , I learn , the House of York Has now sent forth free pardon to all those , Who , long attach 'd to the Lancastrian party , Have not engaged in their late enterprise . Oh ! ‘ tis my man : I pray you conduct him hither . Poor simpleton ! ‘ tis Gregory , who , in pure zeal , and honest attachment , has followed me . A weak one , madam ;— and a woman too . Your pardon , madam , if , to seek a husband ,— Happy has been my search — more than the cause , Altho ’ my heart is warm i n't — brought me hither .