No sceptre and no throne
Grim Death away can scare,
Nor gold nor jewels rare.
Angel [reappearing]. By Providence as herald sent,
Touched by the sound of dire lament;
The monarch to his land restore
Will I, in pity for your grief.
King, for thy kingdom live once more.
[The Angel touches the King’s breast, who, waking apparently from a deep slumber, sits up and sings—
King. How is’t I feel? and can it be