All comfortlefs, afflicted, and forlorn Ev'n now she seems to meditate her Flight, North. Ay, there, my Lord, you touch our heaviest Lofs, With him our Holy Faith is doom'd to fuffer; With him our Church fhall veil her facred Front, That late from Heaps of Gothick Ruins rofe, The Toil of Saints, and Price of Martyr's Blood, Sir J. Gates. Is there no Help in all the healing Art, So precious, and prevent a Nation's Fate ? North. What has been left untry'd that Art could do? The hoary wrinkled Leach has watch'd and toil'd, Try'd ev'ry Health-reftroing Herb and Gum, And weary'd out his painful Skill in vain. Clofe like a Dragon folded in his Den, Some fecret Venom preys upon his Heart; Creeps in his Veins, and drinks the Streams of Life: And ev'ry Gafp we look fhall be his laft. Sir Sir J. Gates. Doubt not, your Graces, but the Popish Will at this Juncture urge their utmost Force. (Faction All, on the Princefs Mary, turn their Eyes, Well hoping fhe shall build again their Altars, North. Good Heaven ordain fome better Fate for England! I know her well, a blinded Zealot is she, A gloomy Nature, fullen and fevere, Nurtur'd by proud prefuming Romih Priefts, An A&t well-pleasing to the Lord of Mercy. Thefe are thy Gods, Oh Rome and this thy Faith. North. And fhall we tamely yield our felves to Bondage? Bow down before these Holy Purple Tyrants, And bid 'em tread upon our flavish Necks? That honest Man and I wou'd die together. Suff. Doubt not, there are Ten thousand, and Ten thousand To own a Caufe fo juft. Sir J. Gates. The List I gave Into your Grace's Hand laft Night, declares My Power and Friends at full, [To Northumb. North: North. Be it your Care, Good Sir John Gates, to fee your Friends appointed, And ready for the Occafion. Haft this Inftant, Lofe not a Moment's Time. Sir J. Gates. I go, my Lord. [Exit Sir J. Gates. North. Your Grace's Princely Daughter, Lady JANE, Is the yet come to Court? Suff. Not yet arriv'd; But with the fooneft I expect her here. I know her Duty to the dying King, Join'd with my ftrict Commands to haften hither, Will bring her on the Wing. North. Befeech your Grace, To fpeed another Meffenger to prefs her; For on her happy Prefence all our Counfels Suff. Upon the Inftant Your Grace fhall be obey'd. I go to fummon her. North. What trivial Influences hold Dominion [Exit Suff. His His fiery Temper brooks not Oppofition Good morrow, [Enter the Earl of Pembroke.] Noble Pembroke: We have stay'd The Meeting of the Council for your Prefence. Pem, For mine, my Lord! You mock your Servant, fure, To fay that I am wanted, where your felf, The Great Alcides of our State, is prefent. Whatever Dangers menace Prince or People, Our Great Northumberland is arm'd to meet 'em; The ableft Head, and firmest Heart you bear, Nor need a fecond in the Glorious Task; Equal your felf to all your Toils of Empire. North. No, as I honour Virtue, I have try'd, And know my Strength too well; nor can the Voice Of friendly Flattery, like your's, deceive me. I know my temper liable to Paffions, And all the Frailties common to our Nature; Much therefore have I need of fome good Man, Might guide my treading thro' our prefent Dangers: I know not one of all our English Peers, Whom I would chufe for that beft Friend, like Pembroke. This Prodigality of Praife and Honour ? were Were not your Grace too Generous of Soul, To speak a Language differing from your Heart, The Rival of your Son. North. No more! I fcorn a Thought I judge of Pembroke and my Son alike. Pem. I ask no more to bind me to your Service. North. The Realm is now at Hazard; and bold Factions Threaten Change, Tumult and difaftrous Days. Then speak your Paffion to the Princely Maid, The Council grow impatient at our Stay. Pem. One Moment's Paufe, and I attend your Grace. Old Winchester cries to me oft, Beware [Exit North Of Proud Northumberland. The Tefty Prelate, Frow ard |