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And doubt not but her grateful Hand shall give you
To see your Soul's Desire upon your Enemies.
The Church shall pour her ample Treasures forth too,
And pay you with Ten thousand Years of Pardon.
Pem. No; keep your Blessings back, and give me Venge Give me to tell that soft Deceiver, Guilford,
(ance. Thus, Traytor, haft thou done, thus hast thou wrong'd me, And thus thy Treason finds a just Reward.
Gar. But foft! no more! the Lords o'th' Council come.
Ha? by the Mass! the Bride aid Bridegroom too!
Retire with me, my Lord, we must not-meet 'em.
Pem. 'Tis they themselves the cursed happy Pair!
Hafte, Winchefter, hafte ! let us fly for ever,
And drive her from my very Thoughts, if possible.
Oh! Love, what have I loft! -Oh! Reverend Lord !
Pity this fond, this foolish Weakness in me!
Methinks, I go like our first wretched Father,
When from his blissful Garden he was driven:
Like me he went despairing, and like
Thus at the Gate stopt short for one last View;
Then with the chearless Partner of his Woe,
He turn'd him to the world that lay below:
There, for his Eden's happy Plains, beheld
A Barren, Wild, Uncomfortable Field;
He faw 'twas vain the Ruin to deplore,
He try'd to give the fad Remembrance o'er :
The sad Remembrance still return'd again,
And his lost Paradise renew'd his Pain.
(Exenat Pembroke and Gardiner,
(Enter Lord Guilford, and Lady JANE.)
Guil. What shall I say to thee? What Pow'r Divine
Will teach my Tongue to tell thee what I feel?
To pour the Transports of my Bosom forth,
And make thee Partner of the Joy dwells there?
For thou art Comfortless, full of Affliction,
Heavy of Heart as the forsaken Widow,
And defolate as Orphans. Oh, my Fair One!
Thy Edward shines amongst the brightest Stars,
And yet thy Sorrows seek him in the Grave.
L. 7. Alas, my dearest Lord! a thousand Griefs
Befet my anxious Heart; and yet, as if
The Burthen were too little, I have added
The Weight of all thy Cares; and like the Mifer,
Increase of Wealth has made me but more wretched.
The Morning Light seems not to rise as usual ;
It dawns not to me, like my Virgin Days,
But brings new Thoughts, and other Fears upon me;
I tremble, and my anxious Heart is pain'd,
Lest ought but Good should happen to my Guilford,
Guil. Nothing but Good can happen to thy Guilford,
While thou art by his Side, his better Angel,
His Blessing and his Guard.
L.F. Why came we hither?
Why was I drawn to this unlucky Place,
This Tower, so often stain’d with Royal Blood?
Here the Fourth Edward's helpless Sons were murder'd,
And Pious Henry fell by Ruthless Glofter:
Is this the Place allotted for Rejoycing?
The Bower adorn'd to keep out Nuptial Feast in?
Methinks Suspicion and Distrust dwell here,
Staring with meagre Forms thro' grated Windows.
Death lurks within, and unrelenting Punishment.
Without, grim Danger, Fear, and fiercest Power
Sit on the rude old Tow'rs, and Gothick Battlements :
While Horror overlooks the dreadful Wall,
And frowns on all around.
Guil. In Safety here,
The Lords o'th' Council have this Morn decreed
To meet, and with united Care, support
The feeble tottering State. To thee, my Princess,
Whose Royal Veins are rich in Henry's Blood,
With one Consent the noblest Heads are bow'd;
From thee they ask a Sanction to their Counsels,
And from thy healing Hand expe&t a Cure
For England's Loss in Edward,
L. J. How! from me!
Alas! my Lord! But sure, thou mean'st to mock me?
Guil, No, by the Love my faithful Heart is full of !
But see, thy Mother, gracious Suffolk, comes
To intercept my Story: She shall tell thee;
For in her Look I read the lab'ring Thought,
What vast Event thy Fate is now disclosing.
[Enter the Dutchess of Suffolk.)
Dutc Suff. Nomore complain, indulge thy Tears no more,
Thy Pious Grief has giv’n the Grave its Due :
Let thy Heart kindle with the highest Hopes;
Expand thy Bofom ; let thy Soul inlarg'd,
Make Room to entertain the coming Glory ;
For Majesty and Purple Greatness court thee,
Homage and low Subjection wait: A Crown,
That makes the Princes of the Earth like Gods;
A Crown, my Daughter, England's Crown attends,
To bind thy Brows with its Imperial Wreath.
L. J. Amazement chills my Veins! What says my Mother?
Dutc. Suff. 'Tis Heav’n’s Decree ; for our expiring Elward, When now, just struggling to his Native Skies, Ev'n on the verge of Heav'n, in Sight of Angels, That hover'd round to waft him to the Stars, Ey’n then declar'd my J A N-E his Succeffor.
L. 7. Gray: Could Edward do this? Could the dying Saint
Bequeath his Crown to me? Oh, fatal Bounty!
To me! But 'tis impossible! We dream.
A thousand and a thousand Bars oppose me,
Rife in my Way, and intercept my Passage.
Ev’n you, my gracious Mother, what must you be,
E’re I can be a Queen?
Dutc. Suff. That, and that only,
Thy Mother; fonder of that tender Name,
Than all the proud Additions Pow'r can give.
Yes, I will give up all my Share of Greatness,
And live in low Obfcurity for ever,
To see thee rais'd, thou Darling of my Heart,
And fix'd upon a Throne. But see ! thy Father,
Northumberland, with all the Council, come
To pay their vow'd Allegiance at thy Feet,
To kneel, and call Thee Queen.
L. 7. Gray. Support me, Guilford;
Give me thy Aid : Stay thou my fainting Soul,
And help me to repress this growing Danger.
[Enter Suffolk, Northumberland, Lords and others of the
North. Hail! sacred Princess! sprung from antient Kings;
Our England's dearest Hope, undoubted Off-fpring
Of Tork and Lancaster's united Line,
By whose bright Zeal, by whose victorious Faith,
Guarded and fenc'd around, our pure Religion,
That Lamp of Truth which shines upon our Altars,
Shall lift its golden Head, and flourish long.
Beneath whose awful Rule, and righteous Seeptre,
The plenteous Years shall roll in long Succession.
Law shall prevail, and antient Right take place,
Fair Liberty fhall lift her chearful Head,
Fearless of Tyranny and proud Oppression.
No sad complaining in our Streets shall cry,
But Justice shall be exercis'd in Mercy.
Hail! Royal JANE! behold, we bend our Knees.
The Pledge of Homage, and thy Land's Obedience;
With humblest Duty thus we kneel, and own Thee
Our Liege, our Soveraign Lady, and our Queen.
L.J. Gray. Oh! rise! My Father, rise !
(To Suff. And you, my Father too!
[To North Rise all! nor cover me with this Confusion: [They rise. Woat means this Mock, this masquing Shew of Greatness? Why do you hang these Pageant Glories on me, And dress mě up in Honours not my own ?
North. The Daughters of our late great Master Henry Stand both by Law excluded from Succession.