And dwells with hoary Hermits; there forget my self, There fix my stupid Eyes upon the Earth, And mufe away an Age in deepest Melancholy. [Enter Pembroke.} Pem, Edward is dead: So faid the Great Northumberland, As now he fhot along by me in Hafte.· He prefs'd my Hand, and in a Whisper, beg'd me To guard the Secret carefully as Life, Till fome few Hours fhou'd pafs; for much hung on it. Much may indeed hang on it. See my Guilford! My Friend! Guil. Ha! Pembroke! Pem. Wherefore doft thou ftart? Why fits that wild Diforder on thy Visage, (Speaking to him. (Starting. Somewhat that looks like Paffions strange to thee, Since I have known thee firft, and call'd thee Friend, So chang'd upon the fudden. Guil. How! So chang'd! Pem. So to my Eye thou seem'ft, Guil. The King is dead. Pem. I learn'd it from thy Father, A Fate which ev'ry Moment we expected, Diflract thy Thought, or fhock thy Temper thus? Guil. Oh, Pembroke 'Tis in vain to hide from thee; For thou has look'd into my artlefs Bofom, And feen at once the Hurry of my Soul. Tis true, thy coming, ftruck me with Surprize. I have I have a Thought -But wherefore faid I One? I have a Thoufand Thoughts all up in Arms, As if their Bufinefs were to make Confufion. Pem. Then fure our better Angels call'd me hither. Wo't thou deal tenderly, and let thy Hand Wo't thou with Patience hear, and judge with Temper? Pem. Away with all this needlefs Preparation. Guil. But fuppofe The Thought were fomewhat that concern'd our Love. Pem. No more, thou know'st we fpoke of that to Day, And on what Terms we left it. 'Tis a Subject, Of which, if poffible, I wou'd not think. I beg that we may mention it no more. Guil. Can we not speak of it with Temper? Pem. No. Thou know'ft I cannot. Therefore, prithee fpare it. Pem. Speak then and ease the Doubts that shock my Soul And crown his Love. Pem. Say not, Suppose: 'Tis done. Seek not for vain Excufe, or foft'ning Words; Guil. How! betray'd thee? Pembroke! Bem. Yes, falfly, like a Traytor. Guil. Have a Care. Pem. But think not I will bear the foul Play from thee. There was but this which I cou'd ne'er forgive. My Soul is up in Arms, my injur❜d Honour, Impatient of the Wrong, calls for Revenge; Guil. Hear me yet, And And Pembroke fhall acquit me to himself. Hear, While I tell how Fortune dealt between us," And gave the yielding Beauty to my Arms. Pem. What, hear it! Stand and liften to thy Triumph! Thou think'ft me tame indeed. No, hold, I charge thee, Left I forget that ever we were Friends, Left in the Rage of difappointed Love, Irush at once, and tear thee for thy Falfhood. Guil. Thou warn'ft me well; and I were rafh, as thou art, To trust the fecret Suin of all my Happiness, With one not Master of himself. Farewel. Pem. Ha! Art thou going? Think not thus to part, Nor leave me on the Rack of this Incertainty. Guil. What would'ft thou further? Pem. Tell it to me all. Say thou art marry'd, fay thou haft poffefs'd her, That I may curfe my felf, and thee, and her. Come, tell me how thou didst supplant thy Friend? And fmiling, plot my Ruin? Guil. Give me Way. When thou art better temper'd, I may tell thee, And vindicate, at full, my Love and Friendship. [Going. Pem. And doft thou hope to fhun me then, thou Traytor! No, I will have it now, this Moment, from thee, Or Drag the Secret out from thy falfe Heart. Guil. A way, thou Madman! I would talk to Winds, And reafon with the rude tempeftuous Surge, Sooner than hold Difcourfe with Rage like thine. Pem Pem. Tell it, or by my injur'd Love I swear, [Laying his Hand upon his Sword. I'll ftab the lurking Treafon in thy Heart. Guil. Ha! Stay thee there; nor let thy frantick Hand Unfheath thy Weapon. If the Sword be drawn, If once we meet on Terms like thofe ; Farewel To ev'ry Thought of Friendship; one must fall. [Stopping him. Pem. Curfe on thy Friendship, I would break the Band. Pem. 'Tis well. My Vengeance shall not loiter long, And when we meet again, may swift Destruction [Exit Pembroke. Guil. The Fate I ever fear'd, is fall'n upon me ; A Breach, like this, from his ungovern'd Rage. Leave |