And if we may discover, &c.
Phil. Break off your music, for our foes are near. [Spirits vanish.
Enter Merlin.
Merl. My sovereign, we have hazarded too far;
But love excuses you, and prescience me:
Make haste, for Osmond is even now alarmed,
And, greedy of revenge, is hasting home.
Arth. Oh! take my love with us, or leave me here.
Merl. I cannot, for she's held by charms too strong,
Which, with the enchanted grove, must be destroyed;