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SCENE I.-The Court.

In her first native simple majesty ; Enter the Duke of NORTHUMBERLAND, Duke of Shall fail with Edward, and again old Rome

The toil of saints, and price of martyrs' blood, SUFFOLK, and Sir John Gates.

Shall spread her banners; and her monkish host, North. 'Tis all in vain ; Heaven has required Pride, ignorance, and rapine, shall return; its pledge,

Blind bloody zeal, and cruel priestly power, And he must die.

Shall scourge the land for ten dark ages more. Suff. Is there an honest heart,

Gates. Is there no help in all the healing art, That loves our England, does not mourn for Ed- No potent juice or drug to save a life ward?

So precious, and prevent a nation's fate? The genius of our isle is shook with sorrow; North. What has been left untried, that art He bows his venerable head with pain,

could do? And labours with the sickness of his lord. The hoary wrinkled leech has watched and toiled, Religion melts in every holy eye;

Tried every health-restoring herb and gum, All comfortless, afflicted, and forlorn,

And wearied out his painful skill in vain. She sits on earth, and weeps upon her cross, Close, like a dragon folded in his den, Weary of man, and his detested ways:

Soine secret venom preys upon his heart; Even now she seems to meditate her flight, A stubborn and unconquerable flame And waft her angels to the thrones above. Creeps in his veins, and drinks the streams of life; North. Ay, there, my lord, you touch our hea- His youthful sinews are unstrung; cold sweats viest loss.

And deadly paleness sit upon his visage; With him our holy faith is doomed to suffer ; And every gasp we look shall be his last. With him our church shall veil her sacred front, Gates. Doubt not, your graces, but the Popish That late from heaps of Gothic ruins rose,

faction 3


Will at this juncture urge their utmost force. To hang this ponderous globe upon a hair,
All on the princess Mary turn their eyes, And bid it dance before a breath of wind.
Well hoping she shall build again their altars, She must be here, and lodged in Guilford's arms,
And bring their idol-worship back in triumph. Ere Edward dies, or all we have done is marred.
North. Good Heaven, ordain some better fate Ha! Peinbroke! that's a bar which thwarts my
for England !

Suff. What better can we hope, if she should His fiery temper brooks not opposition,

And must be met with soft and supple arts, I know her well; a blinded zealot is she; With crouching courtesy, and honeyed words, A gloomy nature, sullen and severe;

Such as assuage the fierce, and bend the strong. Nurtured by proud presuming Romish priests, Taught to believe they only cannot err,

Enter the Earl of PEMBROKE. Because they cannot err; bred up in scorn Good morrow, noble Pembroke: we have staid of reason, and the whole lay world; instructed The meeting of the council for your presence. To hate whoe'er dissent from what they teach; Pem. For mine, my lord ! you mock your To purge the world from heresy by blood;

servant sure, To massacre a nation, and believe it


that I am wanted, where yourself, An act well pleasing to the Lord of Mercy: The great Alcides of our state, is present. These are thy gods, oh, Rome, and this thy faith! Whatever dangers menace prince or people, North. And shall we tamely yield ourselves to Our great Northumberland is armed to meet bondage ?

them : Bow down before these holy purple tyrants,

The ablest hand, and firmest heart you bear, And bid them tread upon our slavish necks? Nor need a second in the glorious task; No; let this faithful free-born English hand Equal yourself to all the toils of empire. First dig my grave in liberty and honour;

North. No; as I honour virtue, I have tried, And though I found but one more thus resolved, And know my strength too well; nor can the That honest man and I would die together.

voice Suff. Doubt not, there are ten thousand and Of friendly fattery, like yours, deceive me. ten thousand,

I know my temper liable to passions, To own a cause so just.

And all the frailties common to our nature; Gates. The list I gave

Blind to events, too easy of persuasion, Into your grace's hand last night, declares And often, too, too often, have I erred : My power and friends at full. [To North. Much therefore have I need of some good man, North. Be it your care,

Some wise and honest heart, whose friendly aid Good Sir John Gates, to see your friends ap- Might guide my treading through our present pointed,

dangers; And ready for the occasion. Haste this instant; And, by the honour of my name I swear, Lose not a moment's time.

I know not one of all our English peers, Gates. I go, my lord.

[Erit Gates. Whom I would chuse for that best friend, like North. Your grace's princely daughter, lady Pembroke. Jane,

Pem. What shall I answer to a' trust so noble, Is she yet come to court?

This prodigality of praise and honour? Suff. Not yet arrived,

Were not your grace tvo generous of soul, But with the soonest I expect her here. To speak a language differing from your heart, I know her duty to the dying king,

How might I think you could not mean this Joined with my strict commands to hasten hither, goodness Will bring her on the wing.

To one, whom his ill-fortune has ordained North. Beseech your grace,

The rival of your son. To speed another messenger to press her ;

North. No more; I scorn a thought For on her happy presence all our counsels So inuch below the diguity of virtue. Depend, and take their fate.

Tis true, I look on Guilford like a father, Suff. Upon the instant

Lean to his side, and see but half his failings: Your grace shall be obeyed. I go to summon her. But, on a point like this, when equal merit

[Erit Suffolk. Stands forth to make its bold appeal to honour, North. What trivial influences hold dominion And calls to have the balance held in justice; O'er wise men's counsels, and the fate of em- Away with all the fonduesses of nature ! pire !

I judge of Pernbroke and iny son alike. The greatest schemes that human wit can forge, Pein. I ask no more to bind me to your serOr bold ambition dares to put in practice,

vice. Depend upon our husbanding a moment,

North. The realm is now at hazard, and bold And the light lasting of a woman's will;

factions As if the lord of nature should delight

Threaten change, tumult, and disastrous days. VOL. I.

Y y

These fears drive out the gentler thoughts of joy, Guil. Heaven forbid !
Of courtship, and of love. Grant, Heaven, the But tell me, Pembroke, is it not in virtue

To arm against this proud imperious passion? To fix in peace and safety once again;

Does holy friendship dwell so near to envy, Then speak your passion to the princely maid, She could not bear to see another happy? And fair success attend you. For myself, If blind mistaken chance, and partial beauty, My voice shall go as far for you, my lord, Should join to favour GuilfordAs for my son; and beauty be the umpire. Pem. Name it not ! But now a heavier matter calls upon us; My fiery spirits kindle at the thought, The king, with life just labouring; and I fear, And hurry me to rage. The council grow impatient at our stay.

Guil. And yet I think Pem. One moment's pause, and I attend your I should not murmur, were thy lot to prosper, grace.

[E.rit North. And mine to be refused. Though sure, the loss Old Winchester cries to me oft, Beware Would wound me to the heart. Of proud Northumberland. The testy prelate, Pem. Ha ! Couldst thou bear it? Froward with age, with disappointed hopes, And yet perhaps thou mightst; thy gentle temAnd zealous for old Rome, rails on the duke,

per Suspecting him to favour the new teachers : Is formed with passions mixed with due proporYet even in that, if I judge right, he errs.

tion, But were it so, what are these monkish quarrels, Where no one overbears, nor plays the tyrant, These wordy wars of proud ill-mannered school But join in nature's business, and thy happiness : inen,

While mine, disdaining reason and her laws,
To us and our lay interest? Let them rail Like all thou canst imagine wild and furious,
And worry one another at their pleasure. Now drive me headlong on, now whirl me back,
This duke, of late, by many worthy offices, And hurl my unstable fitting soul
Has sought my friendship. And yet more, his To every mad extreme. Then pity me,

And let my weakness stand-
The noblest youth our England has to boast of,
Ilas made me long the partner of his breast.

Enter Sir John Gates.
Nay, when he found, in spite of the resistance Gates. The lords of council
My struggling heart had made, to do him justice, Wait with impatience.
That I was grown his rival, he strove hard, Pem. I attend their pleasure.
And would not turn me forth from out his bosom, This only, and no more, then. Whatsoever
But called me still his friend. And see ! He Fortune decrees, still let us call to mind

Our friendship and our honour. And since love

Condemns us to be rivals for one prize,
Enter Lord Guilford.

Let us contend, as friends and brave men ought,
Oh, Guilford ! just as thou wert entering here, With openness and justice to each other;
My thought was running all thy virtues over, That he, who wins the fair one to his arms,
And wondering how thy soul could choose a May take her as the crown of great desert;

And if the wretched loser does repine, So much unlike itself.

His own heart and the world may all condemn Guil. How could my tongue


(Exit Pem. Take pleasure and be lavish in thy praise ! Guil. How cross the ways of life lie! While Ilow could I speak thy nobleness of nature,

we think Thy open manly heart, thy courage, constancy, We travel on direct in one high road, And in-born truth, unknowing to dissemble ! And have our journey's end opposed in view, Thou art the man in whom my soul delights; A thousand thwarting paths break in upon us, In whom, next heaven, I trust.

To puzzle and perplex our wandering steps; Pem. Oh, generous youth !

Love, friendship, hatred, in their turns, mislead us, What can a heart, stubborn and fierce, like mine, And every passion has its separate interest : Return to all thy sweetness ?-Yet I would, Where is that piercing foresight can unfold I would be grateful.-Oh, my cruel fortune! Where all this mazy error will have end, Would I had never seen her, never cast

And tell the doom reserved for ine and PeinMine eyes on Suffolk's daughter !

broke? Guil. So would I !

There is but one end certain, that is Death : Since 'twas my fate to see and love her first. Yet even that certainty is still uncertain. Pem. Oh! Why should she, that universal For of these several tracks, which lie before us, goodness,

We know that one leads certainly to death, Like light, a common blessing to the world, But know not which that one is. 'Tis in vain, Rise, like a comet, fatal to our friendship, This blind divining; let me think no more on it: And threaten it with ruin?

And sce the mistress of our fate appear!



gaze, and wonder, how excelling nature Enter Lady JANE GRAY. Attendants.

Can give each day new patterns of her skill, Hail, princely maid! who, with auspicious beauty, And yet at once surpass them. Chearest every drooping heart in this sad place; L. J. Gray. Oh, vain flattery! Who, like the silver regent of the night, Harsh and ill-sounding ever to my ear; Lift'st up thy sacred beams upon the land, But on a day like this, the raven’s note To bid the gloom look gay, dispel our horrors, Strikes on my sense more sweetly. But, no And make us less lament the setting sun.

more; L. J. Gray. Yes, Guilford; well dost thou I charge thee touch the ungrateful theme no more; compare my presence

Lead me to pay my duty to the king, To the faint comfort of the waning moon: To wet his pale cold hand with these last tears, Like her cold orb, a cheerless gleam I bring : And share the blessings of his parting breath. Silence and heaviness of heart, with dews

Guil. Were I like dying Edward, șure a touch To dress the face of nature all in tears,

Of this dear hand would kindle life anew. But how fares the king?

But I obey, I dread that gathering frown; Guil. He lives as yet,

And, oh! whene'er my bosom swells with pas. But every moment cuts away a hope,

sion, Adds to our fears, and gives the infant saint And my full heart is pained with ardent love, Great prospect of his opening Heaven.

Allow me but to look on you, and sigh; LJ. Gray. Descend, ye choirs of angels, to 'Tis all the humble joy that Guilford asks. receive him!

L. J. Gray. Still wilt thou frame thy speech to Tune your melodious harps to some high strain,

this vain purpose, And waft him upwards with a song of triumph; When the wan king of terrors stalks before us, A purer soul, and one more like yourselves, When universal ruin gathers round, Ne'er entered at the golden gates of bliss. And no escape is left us? Are we not Oh, Guilford! What remains for wretched Eng- Like wretches in a storm, whom every moment, land,

The greedy deep is gaping to devours When he, our guardian angel, shall forsake us ? Around us see the pale despairing crew For whose dear, sake Heaven spared a guilty Wring their sad hands, and give their labour land,

o'er; And scattered not its plagues while Edward The hope of life has every heart forsook, reigned !

And horror sits on each distracted look ; Guil. I own my heart bleeds inward at the One solemn thought of death does all employ, thought,

And cancels, like a dream, delight and joy: And rising horrors crowd the opening scene. One sorrow streams from all their weeping eyes, And yet, forgive me, thou, my native country, And one consenting voice for mercy cries; Thou land of liberty, thou nurse of hernes, Trembling, they dread just Heaven's avenging Forgive me, if, in spite of all thy dangers,

power, New springs of pleasure flow within my bosom, Mourn their past lives, and wait the fatal hour. When thus 'tis given me to behold those eyes,



SCENE I.-Continues.

But you, my noble brother, would prevail,

And I have vielded to you. Enter the Duke of NortHUMBERLAND, and the North. Doubt not any thing; Duke of SUFFOLK.

Nor hold the hour unlucky, that good Hearon, Nor. Yet then be cheered, my heart, amidst Who softens the corrections of his hand, thy mourning

And mixes still a comfort with afflictions, Though fate hang heavy o'er us, though pale fear Has given to-day a blessing in our children, And wild distraction sit on every face;


wipe away our tears for dying Edward. Though never day of grief was known like this, Suff. In that I trust. Good angels be out Let me rejoice, and bless the hallowed light,

guard, Whose beams auspicious shine upon our union, And make my fears prove vain! But see! My And bid nie call the noble Suffolk brother,

wifc ! Suff. I know not what my secret soul preșages, With her, your son, the generous Guilford, comes; But something seems to whisper me within,

She has informed him of our present purpose. That we have been too hasty. For myself, I wish this matter had been yet delayed ;

Enter the Duchess of SUFFOLK, and Lord That we had waited some more blessed time,

GUILFORD. Some better day, with happier amens hallowed, Gyil. Ilow shall I speak the fulness of my For love to kindle up his holy flame.


What shall I say to bless you for this goodness? To bid farewell to thee, my gentle cousin;
Oh, gracious princess! But my life is yours, To speak a few short words to thee, and die.
And all the business of my years to come, With that he prest my hand, and, oh!-he said,
Is, to attend with humblest duty on you, When I am gone, do thou be good to England,
And pay my vowed obedience at your feet. Keep to that faith in which we both were bred,
Duch. Suff. Yes, noble youth, I share in all And to the end be constant. More I would,
thy joys,

But cannot—There his faltering spirits failed, In all the joys which this sad day can give. And turning every thought from earth at once, The dear delight I have to call thee son, To that blest place where all his hopes were ('omes like a cordial to my drooping spirits ;

fixed, It broods with gentle warinth upon my bosom, Earnest he prayed ;-Merciful, great defender! And melts that frost of death which hung about Preserve thy holy altars undefiled, me.

Protect this land from bloody men and idols, But haste! Inform my daughter of our pleasure: Save my poor people from the yoke of Rome, Let thy tongue put on all its pleasing eloquence, And take thy painful servant to thy mercy! . Instruct thy love to speak of comfort to her, Then, sinking on his pillow, with a sigh, To soothe her griefs, and cheer the mourning He breathed his innocent and faithful soul maid.

Into his hands who gave it. North. All desolate and drowned in Aowing Guil. Crowns of glory, tears,

Such as the brightest angels wear, be on lim! By Edward's bed the pious princess sits ; Peace guard his ashes here, and paradise, Fast from her lifted eyes the pearly drops

With all its endless bliss, be open to him! Fall trickling o'er ber cheek, while holy ardour North. Our grief be on his grave. Our preAnd fervent zeal pour forth her labouring soul; sent duty And every sigh is winged with prayers so potent, Enjoins to see his last commands obeyed. As strive with Heaven to save her dying lord. I hold it fit his death be not made known Duch. Suff. From the first early days of infant To any but our friends. Tomorrow, early, life,

The council shall assemble at the Tower. A gentle band of friendship grew betwixt them; Mean while, I beg your grace would strait irr And while our royal uncle Henry reigned,

form [To the Duchess of Suffolk, As brother and as sister bred together,

Your princely daughter of our resolution; Beneath one common parent's care they lived. Our common interest in that happy tie North. A wondrous sympathy of souls con- Demands our swiftest care to see it finished, spired

Duch. Suff. My lord, you have determined well. To form the sacred union. Lady Jane

Lord Guildford, Of all his royal blood was still the dearest; Be it your task to speak at large our purpose. In every innocent delight they shared;

Daughter, receive this lord as one whom I, They sung, and danced, and sat, and walked to- | Your father, and his own, ordain your husband : gether;

What more concerns our will and your obedience, Nay, in the graver business of his youth, We leave you to receive from him at leisure. When books and learning called him from his [E.reunt Duke and Duchess of Suffolk, sports,

and Duke of Northumberland. Even there the princely maid was his companion. Guil. Wilt thou not spare a moment from thy She left the shining court to share bis toil,

sorrows, To turn with him the grave bistorian's page, And bid these bubbling streams forbear to flow! And taste the rapture of the poet's song; Wilt thou not give one interval to joy, To search the Latin and the Grecian stores, One little pause, while hunbly I unfold And wonder at the mighty minds of old. The happiest tale my tongue was ever blest with? Enter Lady Jane Gray, weeping.

L. J. Gray. My heart is dead within me; eve

ry sepse L. J. Gray. Wilt thou not break, my heart ! Is dead to joy: but I will hear thee, Guilford; Sufi. Alas! What meanest thou ?

Nay, I must hear thee, such is her command, Guil. Oh! speak !

Whom early duty taught me still to obey. Duch. Suff. Hlow fares the king ?

Yet, oh! forgive me, if to all the story, North, Say, is he dead?

Though cloquence divine attend thy speaking, 1. J. Gray. The saints and angels have him, Though every muse, and every grace, do crown Duch. Suit. When I left him,

lle seeined a little cheered, just as you entered. Forgive me, if I cannot better answer,
L. J. Gray. As I approached to kneel and pay Than weeping- thus, and thusa
my duty,

Guil. If I offend thee,
Ile raised his feeble eyes, and faintly smiling, Let me be dunb for ever: Let not life
Are you then come? he cried : I only lived, Inform these breathing organs of my voice,

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