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To bid our souls look out, explore hereafter,
And seek some better sure abiding place;
When all around our gathering foes come on,
To drive, to sweep us from this world at once?
Guil. Does any danger new

L. J. Gray. The faithless counsellors
Are fled from hence to join the princess Mary.
The servile herd of courtiers, who so late
In low obedience bent the knee before me;
They, who with zealous tongues, and hands up-
lifted,

Besought me to defend their laws and faith;
Vent their lewd execrations on my name,
Proclaim me traitress now, and to the scaffold
Doom my devoted head.

Guil. The changeling villains!

That pray for slavery, fight for their bonds,
And shun the blessing, liberty, like ruin.
What art thou, human nature, to do thus?
Does fear of folly make thee, like the Indian,
Fall down before this dreadful devil, tyranny,
And worship the destroyer?

But wherefore do I loiter tamely here?
Give me my arms: I will preserve my country,
Even in her own despite. Some friends I have,
Who will or die or conquer in the cause,
Thine and religion's, thine and England's cause.
L. J. Gray. Art thou not all my treasure, all
my guard?

And wilt thou take from me the only joy,
The last defence is left me here below?
Think not thy arm can stem the driving torrent,
Or save a people, who with blinded rage
Urge their own fate, and strive to be undone.
Northumberland, thy father, is in arms;
And if it be in valour to defend us,

His sword, that long has known the way to conquest,

Shall be our surest safety.

Enter the Duke of SUFFOLK.

Suff. Oh, my children !

L. J. Gray. Alas! what means my father?
Suff. Oh, my son,

Thy father, great Northumberland, on whom
Our dearest hopes were built-

Guil. Ha! What of him?
Suff. Is lost! betrayed!

His army, onward as he marched, shrunk from him,

Mouldered away, and melted by his side;
Like falling hail thick strewn upon the ground,
Which, ere we can essay to count, is vanished.
With some few followers he arrived at Cam-
bridge;

But there even they forsook him, and himself
Was forced, with heavy heart and watery eye,
To cast his cap up, with dissembled cheer,
And cry, God save queen Mary! But, alas!
Little availed the semblance of that loyalty:
For soon thereafter, by the earl of Arundel
With treason he was charged, and there arrested;

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Of empire, and a crown, that danced before me,
With all those unsubstantial empty forms:
The gaudy mask, tedious, and nothing meaning,
Is vanished all at once- -Why, fare it well.
Guil. And canst thou bear this sudden turn of
fate,

With such unshaken temper ?

L. J. Gray. For myself,

If I could form a wish for Heaven to grant,
It should have been, to rid me of this crown.
And thou, o'er-ruling, great, all-knowing Power!
Thou who discern'st our thoughts, who see'st them
rising

And forming in the soul! Oh, judge me, thou,
If e'er ambition's guilty fires have warmed me,
If e'er my heart inclined to pride, to power,
Or joined in being a queen. I took the sceptre
To save this land, thy people, and thy altars:
And now, behold, I bend my grateful knee,
[Kneeling.

In humble adoration of that mercy,
Which quits me of the vast unequal task.

Enter the Duchess of SUFFOLK.
Duch. Suff. Nay, keep that posture still, and
let us join,

Fix all our knees by thine, lift up our hands,
And seek for help and pity from above;
For earth and faithless man will give us none !
L. J. Gray. What is the worst our cruel fate
ordains us?

Duch. Suff. Cursed be my fatal counsels, cursed

my tongue,

That pleaded for thy ruin, and persuaded
Thy guiltless feet to tread the paths of greatness!
My child-I have undone thee!

L. J. Gray. Oh, my mother!

Should I not bear a portion in thy sorrows?

Duch. Suff. Alas, thou hast thy own, a double
portion.

Mary is come, and the revolting Londoners,
Who beat the heavens with thy applauding name,
Now crowd to meet, and hail her as their queen.
Sussex is entered here, commands the Tower,
Has placed his guards around, and this sad place,
So late thy palace, is become our prison.

I saw him bend his knee to cruel Gardiner,
Who, freed from his confinement, ran to meet
him,

Embraced and blest him with a hand of blood;
Each hastening moment I expect them here,
To seize and pass the doom of death upon us.
Guil. Ha! seized! Shalt thou be seized? and

shall I stand,

And tamely see thee borne away to death?
Then blasted be my coward name for ever!
No, I will set myself to guard this spot,
To which our narrow empire now is shrunk :
Here I will grow, the bulwark of my queen;

Nor shall the hand of violence profane thee,
Until my breast have borne a thousand wounds,
Till this torn mangled body sink at once,
A heap of purple ruin, at thy feet.

L. J. Gray. And could thy rash distracted rage do thus?

Draw thy vain sword against an armed multitude,
Only to have my poor heart split with horror,
To see thee stabbed and butchered here before me?
Oh, call thy better nobler courage to thee,
And let us meet this adverse fate with patience!
Greet our insulting foes with equal tempers,
With even brows, and souls secure of death;
Here stand unmoved; as once the Roman senate
Received fierce Brennus, and the conquering
Gauls,

Till even the rude barbarians stood amazed
At such superior virtue. Be thyself,
For see, the trial comes!

Enter SUSSEX, GARDINER, Officers and Soldiers.

Suss. Guards, execute your orders; seize the

traitors:

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So our great mistress, royal Mary, bids,
I leave the full disposal of these prisoners.
To your wise care the pious queen commends
Her sacred self, her crown, and, what's yet more,
The holy Roman church; for whose dear safety,
She wills your utmost diligence be shewn,
To bring rebellion to the bar of justice.
Yet farther, to proclaim how much she trusts
In Winchester's deep thought, and well tried
faith,

The scal attends to grace those reverend hands;
And when I next salute you, I must call you
Chief minister and chancellor of England.
Gar. Unnumbered blessings fall upon her head,
My ever-gracious lady! to remember
With such full bounty her old humble beadsman!
For these, her foes, leave me to deal with them.
Suss. The queen is on her entrance, and ex-
pects me :

My lord, farewell.

Gar. Farewell, right noble Sussex :

Commend me to the queen's grace; say her bidding

Shall be observed by her most lowly creature. [Exit Sussex. Lieutenant of the Tower, take hence your pri

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Oh, tyrant! but the task becomes thee well;
Thy savage temper joys to do death's office;
To tear the sacred bands of love asunder,
And part those hands which heaven itself hath
joined.

Duch. Suff. To let us waste the little rest of

life

Together, had been merciful.

Suff. Then it had not

Been done like Winchester.

Guil. Thou stand'st unmoved;
Calm temper sits upon thy beauteous brow;
Thy eyes, that flowed so fast for Edward's loss,
Gaze unconcerned upon the ruin round thee;
As if thou hadst resolved to brave thy fate,
And triumph in the midst of desolation.
Ha! see, it swells; the liquid crystal rises,
It starts, in spite of thee,but I will catch it;
Nor let the earth be wet with dew so rich.

L. J. Gray. And dost thou think, my Guilford,
I can see

My father, mother, and even thee my husband,
Torn from my side without a pang of sorrow?
How art thou thus unknowing in my heart!
Words cannot tell thee what I feel. There is
An agonizing softness busy here,

That tugs the string, that struggles to get loose, And pour my soul in wailings out before thee.

Guil. Give way, and let the gushing torrent

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Dies every night, and every morn revives :
The flowers, which winter's icy hand destroyed,
Lift their fair heads, and live again in spring.
Mark, with what hopes upon the furrowed plain,
The careful plowman casts the pregnant grain;
There hid, as in a grave, a while it lies,
Till the revolving season bids it rise;
Till nature's genial powers command a birth,
And potent call it from the teeming earth:
Then large increase the buried treasures yield,
And with full harvest crown the plenteous field.
[Exeunt severally with guards.

ACT V.

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How like a saint she ended. Some fit number, And those, too, of our friends, were most conve◄ nient;

But, above all, see that good guard be kept:
You know the queen is lodged at present here;
Take care that no disturbance reach her highness.
And so good morning, good master lieutenant.
[Exit Lieutenant.

How now! What light comes here?
Ser. So please your lordship,

If I mistake not, 'tis the earl of Pembroke.
Gar. Pembroke! 'Tis he: What calls him

forth thus early?

Somewhat he seems to bring of high import;
Some flame uncommon kindles up his soul,
And flashes forth impetuous at his eyes.

Enter PEMBROKE; a page with a light before him.

Good morrow, noble Pembroke! What importu

nate

And strong necessity breaks on your slumbers, And rears your youthful head from off your pil

low

At this unwholesome hour; while yet the night Lasts in her latter course, and with her raw And rheumy damps infests the dusky air?

Pem. Oh, reverend Winchester! my beating heart

Exults and labours with the joy it bears :
The news I bring shall bless the breaking morn.
This coming day the sun shall rise more glorious
Than when his maiden beams first gilded o'er
The rich immortal greens, the flow'ry plains,
And fragrant bowers of paradise new-born!
Gar. What happiness is this?
Pem. 'Tis mercy, mercy,

The mark of Heaven impressed on human kind;
Mercy, that glads the world, deals joy around;
Mercy, that smooths the dreadful brow of power,
And makes dominion light; mercy, that saves,
Binds up the broken heart, and heals despair.

3 A

Mary, our royal, ever-gracious mistress,
Has to my services and humblest prayers
Granted the lives of Guilford and his wife;
Full and free pardon!

Gar. Ha! what said you? Pardon!
But sure you cannot mean it; could not urge
The queen to such a rash and ill-timed grace?
What! save the lives of those who wore her
crown!

Peace and good-will to man? The hallowed hand,

Ordained to bless, should know no stain of blood.
Tis true, I am not practised in your politics;
'Twas your pernicious counsel led the queen
To break her promise with the men of Suffolk,
To violate, what in a prince should be
Sacred above the rest, her royal word.

My lord! 'tis most unweighed, pernicious coun-To sel,

And must not be complied with.

Pem. Not complied with!

And who shall dare to bar her sacred pleasure,
And stop the stream of mercy!

Gar. That will I;

Who will not see her gracious disposition Drawn to destroy herself.

Pem. Thy narrow soul

Knows not the god-like glory of forgiving:
Nor can thy cold, thy ruthless heart conceive,
How large the power, how fixed the empire is,
Which benefits confer on generous minds:
Goodness prevails upon the stubborn foe,
And conquers more than even Cæsar's sword did.
Gar. These are romantic, light, vain-glorious
dreams.

Have you considered well upon the danger?
How dear to the fond many, and how popular
These are whom you would spare? Have you
forgot,

When at the bar, before the seat of judgment,
This lady Jane, this beauteous traitress, stood,
With what command she charmed the whole as-
sembly?

With silent grief the mournful audience sat,
Fixed on her face, and listening to her pleading.
Her very judges wrung their hands for pity;
Their old hearts melted in them as she spoke,
And tears ran down upon their silver beards.
Even I myself was moved, and for a moment
Felt wrath suspended in my doubtful breast,
And questioned if the voice I heard was mortal.
But when her tale was done, what loud applause,
Like bursts of thunder, shook the spacious hall!
At last, when, sore constrained, the unwilling lords
Pronounced the fatal sentence on her life,
A peal of groans ran through the crowded court,
As every heart was broken, and the doom,
Like that which waits the world, were universal.
Pem. And can that sacred form, that angel's
voice,

Which moved the hearts of a rude ruthless crowd,
Nay, moved even thine, now sue in vain for pity?
Gur. Alas, you look on her with lovers' eyes:
I hear and see through reasonable organs,
Where passion has no part. Come, come, my
lord,

You have too little of the statesman in you.
Pent. And you, my lord, too little of the church-

mair

Is not the sacred purpose of our faith

Gar. Yes, and I dare avow it: I advised her break through all engagements made with heretics,

And keep no faith with such a miscreant crew. Pem. Where shall we seek for truth, when even religion,

The priestly robe and mitred head, disclaim it? But thus bad men dishonour the best cause.

I tell thee, Winchester, doctrines like thine
Have stained our holy church with greater in-
famy

Than all your eloquence can wipe away.
Hence 'tis, that those who differ from our faith,
Brand us with breach of oaths, with persecution,
With tyranny o'er conscience, and proclaim
Our scarlet prelates men that thirst for blood,
And Christian Rome more cruel than the Pagan.
Gar. Nay, if you rail, farewell. The queen
must be

Better advised, than thus to cherish vipers,
Whose mortal stings are armed against her life.
But while I hold the seal, no pardon passes
For heretics and traitors. [Exit Gardiner.

Pem. 'Twas unlucky

To meet and cross upon this froward priest: But let me lose the thought on't; let me haste, Pour my glad tidings forth in Guilford's bosom, And pay him back the life his friendship saved. [Exit.

⚫ SCENE II.

The Lady JANE kneeling, as at her devotion; a
light, and a book placed on a table before her.
Enter Lieutenant of the Tower, Lord GUIL-
FORD, and one of Lady JANE's women.
Lieut. Let me not press upon your lordship
farther,

But wait your leisure in the anti-chamber.
Guil. I will not hold you long.

Wom. Softly, my lord!

[Exit Lieutenant.

For yet, behold she kneels. Before the night
Had reached her middle space, she left her bed,
And with a pleasing, sober cheerfulness,
As for her funeral, arrayed herself

In those sad solemn weeds. Since then her knee
Has known that posture only, and her eye,
Or fixed upon the sacred page before her,
Or lifted, with her rising Lopes, to heaven.

Guil. Sec, with what zeal those holy hands are reared!

Mark her vermilion lip, with fervour trembling; Her spotless bosom swells with sacred ardour,

And burns with ecstasy and strong devotion;
Her supplication sweet, her faithful vows
Fragrant and pure, and grateful to high Heaven,
Like incense from the golden censer rise;
Or blessed angels minister unscen,

Catch the soft sounds, and with alternate office,
Spread their ambrosial wings, then mount with
joy,

And waft them upwards to the throne of grace.
But she has ended, and comes forward.

The partner of thy heart, thy love is safe.
Guil. Millions of blessings wait her!—as she
-tell me,

Oh, has she spared my wife?

Pem. Both, both are pardoned.

But haste, and do thou lead me to thy saint,
That I may cast myself beneath her fect,
And beg her to accept this poor amends
For all I've done against her-Thou fair excel-
lence,
[Knceling.

[Lady Jane rises, and comes towards the Canst thou forgive the hostile hand, that armed
front of the stage.
Against thy cause, and robbed thee of a crown?
L. J. Gray. Oh, rise, my lord, and let me take

L.J. Gray. Ha!

Art thou my Guilford? Wherefore dost thou

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Pem. Oh, let me fly, bear me, thou swift impa-
tience,

And lodge me in my faithful Guilford's arms!
[Embracing.
That I may snatch him from the greedy grave,
That I may warm his gentle heart with joy,
And talk to him of life, of life and pardon.

Guil. What means my dearest Pembroke?
Pem. Oh, my speech

Is choaked with words that crowd to tell my ti-
dings!

But I have saved thec-and-Oh, joy unuttera-
ble!

The queen, my gracious, my forgiving mistress,
Has given not only thee to my request,
But she, she too, in whom alone thou liv'st,

your posture!

Life and the world are hardly worth my care,
But you have reconciled me to them both;
Then let me pay my gratitude, and for
This free, this noble, unexpected mercy,
Thus low I bow to Heaven, the queen, and you.
Pem. To me! forbid it goodness! if I live,
Somewhat I will do shall deserve your thanks.
All discord and remembrance of offence
Shall be clean blotted out; and for your free-
dom,

Myself have underta'en to be your caution.
Hear me, you saints, and aid my pious purpose !
These that deserve so much, this wondrous pair,
Let these be happy: every joy attend them;
A fruitful bed, a chain of love unbroken,
A good old age, to see their children's chil-
dren;

A holy death, and everlasting memory;
While I resign to them my share of happiness,
Contented still to want what they enjoy,
And singly to be wretched.

Enter Lieutenant of the Tower.
Lieut. The Lord Chancellor
Is come with orders from the queen.

Enter GARDINER, and Attendant.
Pem. Ha! Winchester!

Gar. The queen, whose days be many,
By me confirms her first accorded grace;
But, as the pious princess means her mercy
Should reach e'en to the soul as well as body,
By me she signifies her royal pleasure,
That thou, lord Guilford, and the lady Jane,
Do instantly renounce, abjure your heresy,
And yield obedience to the see of Rome.

L. J. Gray. What! turn apostate?
Guil. Ha! forego my faith!

Gar. This one condition only scals your par

don:

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