Rat. The Council waits

Upon Your Highnefs' Leifure.--

Gloft. Bid 'em enter.

Enter the Duke of Buckingham, Earl of Derby, Bishop of Ely, Lord Haftings and others, as to the Council.

The Duke of Glofter takes his Place at the upper End, then the reft fit.

Derb. In happy Time are we affembled here, To point the Day, and fix the folemn Pomp, For placing England's Crown with all due Rites, Upon our Sovereign Edward's Youthful Brow.

L. Haft. Some bufy meddling Knaves, 'tis faid there ares As fuch will still be prating, who prefume

To carp and cavil at his Royal Right;
Therefore I hold it fitting, with the fooneft,
T'appoint the Order of the Coronation;
So to approve our Duty to the King,

And ftay the Babling of fuch vain Gainfayers.

Derb. We all attend to know your Highness' Pleasure.

Gloft. My Lords! A Set of worthy Men you are,
Prudent and juft, and careful for the State:
Therefore to your moft grave Determination,
I yield my felf in all things; and demand,
What Punishment your Wisdom fhall think meet
T' inflict upon thofe damnable Contrivers,

[To Glofter.

Who fhall with Potions, Charms, and witching Drugs,
Practife against our Perfon and our Life.

L. Haft. So much I hold the King your Highness' Debtor So precious are you to the Commonweal,

That I prefume, not only for my felf,

But in Behalf of thefe my Noble Brothers,
To fay, whoe'er they be, they merit Death.

Gloft.

Gloft. Then judge your felves, convince your Eyes of Truth Behold my Arm thus blasted, dry and wither'd,

Shrunk like a foul Abortion, and decay'd,

[Pulling up his Sleeve

Like fome untimely Product of the Seafons,
Robb'd of its Properties of Strength and Office.
This is the Sorcery of Edward's Wife,

Who in Conjunction with that Harlot Shore,
And other like confederate Midnight Haggs.
By force of potent Spells, of bloody Characters,
And Conjurations horrible to hear,

Call Fiends and Spectres from the Yawning Deep,
And fet the Minifters of Hell at Work,

To torture and difpoil me of my Life.
L. Haft. If they have done this Deed-
Gloft. If they have done it!

Talk'ft thou to me of If's! audacious Traitor!
Thou art that Strumpet Witch's chief Abettor,
The Patron and Complotter of her Mischiefs,
And join'd in this Contrivance for my Death.

Nay start not, Lords,-----What hoa a Guard there, Sirs!
[Enter Guard.]

Lord Haftings, I arreft thee of High Treafon.

Seize him, and bear him instantly away,

He fha' not live an Hour. By Holy Paul!

I will not dine before his Head be brought me :
Ratcliff, ftay you, and fee that it be done.

The reft that love me, rife and follow me.

[Exeunt Glofter and Lords following:

[Manent Lord Haftings, Ratcliff and Guard.

L. Haft. What! and no more but this---how, to the Scaffold!

Ob

Oh gentle Ratcliff! tell me do I hold thee?

Or if I dream, what fhall I do to wake,

To break, to ftruggle thro' this dread Confufion?
For furely Death itself is not fo painful

As is this fudden Horror and Surprize.

Rat. You heard, the Duke's Commands to me were abfolute; Therefore my Lord, addrefs you to your Shrift,

With all good Speed you may. Summon your Courage,
And be felf;
your for you must die this Inftant.

L. Haft. Yes, Ratcliff, I will take thy Friendly Counsel,
And die as a Man fhould; 'tis fomewhat hard,
To call my fcatter'd Spirits home at once:
But fince what must be, must be---let Neceffity
Supply the Place of Time and Preparation,
And arm me for the Blow. 'Tis but to die,
'Tis but to venture on that common Hazard
Which many a Time in Battle I have run;
'Tis but to do, what, at that very Moment,
Nations of the peopled Earth,

In many

A thousand, and a thousand shall do with me:

'Tis but to close my Eyes, and shut out Day-Light,

To view no more the wicked Ways of Men,

No longer to behold the Tyrant Glofter,

And be a weeping Witness of the Woes,
The Defolation, Slaughter and Calamities,
Which he shall bring on this unhappy Land.

Enter Alicia.

Alic. Stand off! and let me pafs-I will, I must, Catch him once more in these despairing Arms, And hold him to my Heart.--Oh Haftings, Haftings! L. Haft. Alas! Why com'ft thou at this dreadful Moment.

То

To fill me with new Terrors, new Distractions,
To turn me wild with thy diftemper'd Rage,

And fhock the Peace of my departing Soul?
Away! I prethee leave me!

Alic. Stop a Minute.-----

'Till my full Griefs find Paffage.----Oh the Tyrant! Perdition fall on Glofter's Head and mine.

L. Haft. What means thy frantick Grief?

Alic. I cannot fpeak--

But I have murder'd thee.---Oh I could tell thee!

L. Haft. Speak, and give Eafe to thy conflicting Paffions: Be quick, nor keep me longer in Sufpence.

Time preffes, and a thoufand crowding Thoughts
Break in at once; this Way and that they snatch,
They tear my hurry'd Soul. All claim Attention,
And yet not one is heard. Oh fpeak and leave me,
For I have Bufinefs would employ an Age,

And but a Minute's Time to get it done in.

Alic. That, That's my Grief-'Tis I that urge thee on,
Thus haunt thee to the Toil, fweep thee from Earth,
And drive thee down this Precipice of Fate.

L. Haft. Thy Reafon is grown wild. Could thy weak Hand
Bring on this mighty Ruin? If it could,
What have I done fo grievous to thy Soul,
So deadly, fo beyond the Reach of Pardon,
That nothing but my Life can make Attonement?
Alic. Thy cruel Scorn had ftung me to the Heart,
And fet my burning Bofom all in Flames:
Raving and mad I flew to my Revenge,
And writ I know not what--told the Protector,
That Shore's detefted Wife by Wiles had won thee,

To

(Oh dire Event of my pernicious Council!) And while I meant Destruction on her Head, H' has turn'd it all on thine.

L. Haft. Accurfed Jealoufy!

O mercilefs, wild and unforgiving Fiend!
Blindfold it runs to undiftinguifh'd Mischief,
And murders all it meets. Curft be its Rage,
For there is none fo deadly; doubly curs'd
Be all thofe eafy Fools who give it Harbour:
Who turn a Monster loofe among Mankind,
Fiercer than Famine, War, or spotted Peftilence;
Baneful as Death, and horrible as Hell.

Alic. If thou wilt Curfe, curfe rather thine own Falfhood;

Curfe the lewd Maxims of thy prejur'd Sex,

Which taught thee firft to laugh at Faith and Juftice,

To fcorn the Solemn Sanctity of Oaths,

And make a Jeft of a poor Woman's Ruin:

Curfe thy proud Heart, and thy infulting Tongue,
That rais'd this fatal Fury in my Soul,

And urg'd my Vengeance to undo us both.

L. Haft. Oh thou Inhuman! turn thy Eyes away,
And blast me not with their deftructive Beams:
Why should I Curfe thee with my dying Breath?
Be gone! and let me figh it out in Peace.

Alic. Can't thou----Oh cruel Haftings, leave me thus!
Hear me, I beg thee-----I conjure thee, hear me!
While with an agonizing Heart, I fwear

By all the Pangs I feel, by all the Sorrows,

The Torrors and Despair thy Loss shall give me,
My Hate was on my Rival bent alone.

Oh!