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The Council shall assemble at the Tower.
Mean while, I beg your Grace would strait inform

[To Dutchess of Suffolk
Your Princely Daughter of our Refolution.
Our common Interest in that happy Tie,
Demands our swifrest Care to see it finill'd.

D.S. My Lord, you have determin'd well. Lord Guilfordi Be it your Task to speak at large our Purpose. Daughter, receive this Lord as one, whom I, Your Father, and his own, ordain your Husband, What more concerns our Will and your Obedience, We leave you to receive from him at leisure.

[ Exeunt Duke and Dutchess of Suffolk.

and Duke of Northumberland.
Guil. Wo't thou not fpare a Moment from thy Sorrows,
And bid these bubbling Streams forbear to flow?
Wo’t thou not give one Interval to Joy,
One little Pause, while humbly I unfold
The happiest Tale my Tongue was ever bleft with?

L. 7. Gray. My Heart is cold within me, ev'ry Sense
Is dead to Joy; but I will hear thee, Guilford,
Nay, I must hear thee, fuch is her Command,
Whom early Duty caught ine full t'obey.
But, Oh! Forgive me, if to all thy Story,
Tho' Eloquence Divine attend thy speaking,
Tho' ev'ry Muse, and ev'ry Grace do crown thee,
Forgive me, if I cannot better answer,
Than weeping thus and thus

Guil, If I offend thee,
Let me be dumb for ever ; let not Life,
Inform thefe breathing Organs of my Voice,


It any Sound from me disturb thy Quiet.
What is my Peace or Happiness to thine ?
No, tho' our Noble Parents had decreed,
And urg'd high Reasons which import the State,
This Night to give thee to my Faithful Arms,
My fairelt Bride, my only earthly Bliss --

L.7. Gray. How ! Guilford ! On this Night?

Guil. This happy Night.
Yet if thou art refoly'd to cross my Fate,
If this my utmost Wish shall give thee Pain,
Now rather let the Stroke of Death fall on me,
And stretch me out a lifeless Course before thee,
Let me, swept away with Things forgotten,
Be huduld up in fome obscure blind Grave,
E’re chou should'st say my Love has made Thee wretched,
Or drop one single Tear for Guilford's Sake.

I. F. Gray. Alas! I have too much of Death already,
And want not thine to furnish out new Horror.
Oh! Dreadful Thought ! If thou wert dead indeed,
What Hope were left me then? Yes, I will own,
Spite of the Blush that burns my Maiden Cheek,
My Heart has fondly lean's toward thee long:
Thy Sweetness, Virtue, and unblemith'd Youth
Have won a Place for thee within my Bosom:
And if my Eyes look coldly on thee now,
And shun thy Love on this disastrous Day,
It is, because I would not deal so hardly,
To give thee Sighs for all thy faithful Vows,
And pay thy Tenderness with nought but Tears.
And yet 'tis all I have.

Guil. .

Guil. I ask no more ;
Let me but call thee mine, confirm that Hope,
To charm the Doubts which vex my anxious Soul,
For all the rest, do thou allot it for me,
And at thy Pleasure portion out my Blessings.
My Eyes shall learn to smile or weep from thine,
Nor will I think of Joy while thou art fad.
Nay, could'st thou be fo cruel to command it,
I will forgoe a Bridegroom's facred Right,
And sleep far froin thee, on the unwholesom Earth, --
Where Damps arise, and whistling Winds blow loud.
Then when the Day returns, come drooping to thee,
My Locks still drizzling with the Dews of Night,
And chear my Heart with thee as with the Morning.

L.J. G. Say, Wo't thou confecrate the Night to Sorrow,
And give up ev'ry Sense to folemn Sádness.?
Wo’t thou, in watching, wast the tedious.Hours,
Sit silently and careful by my side,
List to the rolling Clocks, the Cricket's Cry,
And ev'ry melancholy Midnight Noife?
Say, Wo't thou banish Pleasure and Delight?
Wo't thou forget that ever we have lov'd,
And only now and then let fall a Tear
To mourn for Edward's Lofs, and England's Fate ?

Guil. Unweary'd still I will attend thy Woos,
And be a very faithful Partner to thee.
Near thee I will complain in Sighs as Numberless,
As Murmurs breathing in the leafy Grove :
My Eyes (hall mix their falling Drops with thive,
Constant, as never-cealing Waters roll,
That purl and gurgle a'er their Sands for ever.



The Sun shall fee my Grief, thro' all his Course ;
And when Night comes, fad Philomel, who plains
From starry Vesper to the rosie Dawn,
Shall cease to tune her lamentable Song,
E’re I give o'er to weep and mourn with thee.
L. F. Gray. Here then I take thee to my Heart for ever,

[Giving her Hand.
The dear Companion of my future Days:
Whatever Providence allots for each,
Be that the common Portion of us both :
Share all the Griefs of thy unhappy J A NE;
But if good Heav'n have any Joy in Store,
Let that be all thy own.

Guil. Thou wondrous Goodness!
Heav'n gives too much at once in giving thee.
And by the common Course of things below,
Where each Delight is temper'd with Ami&tion,
Some Evil terrible and unforeseen
Must sure enfue, to poise the Scale against
This vast Profusion of exceeding Pleasure.
But be it so, let it be Death and Ruin,
On any Terms I take thee.

L. J. Gray. Trust our Fate
To him whose gracious Wisdom guides our Ways,
And makes what we think Evil, turn to Good.
Perinit me now to leave thee and retire ;
I'll suinmon all my Reason and my Duty,
To footh this Storm withinz, and frame iny Heart
To yield Obedience to my noble Parents.

Guil. Good Angels minister their Comforts to thee.
And, Oh! If as my fond Belief would hope,

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If any Word of mine be gracious to thee,
I beg thee, I conjure thee, drive away
Those murd'rous Thoughts of Grief that kill thy Quiet.
Restore thy gentle Bofom's Native Peace,
Lift up the Light of Gladness in thy Eyes,
And chear my Heaviness with one dear Smile:

L. 7. Gray. Yes, Guilford, I will study to forget
All that the Royal Edward has been to me,
How we have lov’d, ev’n from our very Cradles.
My private Loss no longer will I mourn,
But ev'ry tender Thought to thee hall turn.
With Patience I'll fubmit to Heav'ns Decree,
And what I lost in Edward, find in thee.
But Oh! when I revolve, what Ruins wait
Our finking Altars, and the falling State:
When I consider what my Native Land
Expected froin her Pious Sov'raign's Hand,
How form’d he was to save her from Distress,
A King to govern, and a Saint to bless;
New Sorrow to my lab'ring Breast fucceeds,
And any whole Heart for wretched England bleeds.

[Exit I.ady JANE GRA Y..
Guil. My Heart sinks in me, at her foft complaining,
And ev'ry moving Accent that she breaths,
Resolves my Courage, slackens my tough Nerves,
And melts me down to Infancy and Tears.
My Fancy palls, and takes Distaste at Pleasure;
My Soul grows out of Tune, it loaths the World,
Sickens at all the Noise and Folly of it ;
And I could sit me down in fome dull Shade,
Where lonely Contemplation kecps her Caves


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