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Has given to-day a blessing in our children,
To wipe away our tears for dying Edward.

Suff, In that I trust. Good angels be our guard, And make my fears prove vain. But see! My

wife! With her, your son, the generous Guilford comes; She has inform'd him of our present purpose.

Enter the Duchess Of Suffolk and Lord GuilFord.

Lord G. How shall I speak the fulness of my heart? What shall I say to bless you for this goodness? Oh, gracious princess ! But my life is yours, And all the business of my years to come, Is, to attend with humblest duty on you, And pay my vow'd obedience at your feet.

Duchess S. Yes, noble youth, 1 share in all thy joys, In all the joys, which this sad day can give. The dear delight I have to call thee son, Comes like a cordial to my drooping spirits; It broods with gentle warmth upon my bosom, And melts that frost of death which hung about me. But haste! Inform my daughter of our pleasure: Let thy tongue put on all her pleasing eloquence. Instruct thy love to speak of comfort to her, To sooth her griefs, and cheer the mourning maid.

North. All desolate and drown'd in flowing tears, By Edward's bed the pious princess sits; Fast from her lifted eyes the pearly drops Fall tiickling o'er her cheek, while holy ardour And fervent zeal pour forth her lab'ring soul; And ev'ry sigh is wing'd with pray'rs so potent, As strive with Heav'n to save her dying lord.

Duchess S. From the first early days of infant life,

A gentle band of friendship grew betwixt them;
And while our royal uncle Henry reign'd,
As brother and as sister bred together,
Beneath one common parent's care they liv'd.

North. A wondrous sympathy of souls conspir'd
To form the sacred union. Lady Jane
Of all his royal blood was still the dearest;
In ev'ry innocent delight they shar'd,
They sung, and danc'd,and sat,and walk'd together;
Nay, in the graver business of his youth,
When books and learning calI'd him from his sports,
Ev'n there the princely maid was his companion.
She left the shining court to share his toil,
To turn with him the grave historian's page,
And taste the rapture of the poet's song;
To search the Latin and the Grecian stores,
And wonder at the mighty minds of old.

Enter Lady Jane Grey, weeping.

Lady J. G. Wilt thou not break, my heart!

Stiff. Alas! What mean'st thou?

Guil. Oh! speak!

Duchess S. How fares the king?

North. Say, Is he dead?

Lady J. G. The saints and angels have him.

Duchess S. When I left him, He seem'd a little cheer'd, just as you enter'd

Lady J. G. As I approach'd to kneel and pay my duty, He rais'd his feeble eyes, and faintly smiling, Are you then come? he cry'd: I only liv'd, To bid farewell to thee, my gentle cousin; To speak a few short words to thee, and die. With that he press'd my hand, and oh !—he said, When I am gone, do thou be good to England, Keep to that faith in which we both were bred,

And to the end be constant. More I would,
But cannot—There his fault'ring spirits fail'd,
And turning ev'ry thought from earth at once
To that best place where all his hopes were fix'd,

Earnest he pray'd; Merciful, great Defender!

Preserve thy holy altars undefil'd,
Protect this land from bloody men and idols,
Save my poor people from the yoke of Rome,
And take thy painful servant to thy mercy.
Then sinking on his pillow, with a sigh,
He breath'd his innocent and faithful soul
Into His hands who gave it.

Gnil. Crowns of glory,
Such as the brightest angels wear, be on him:
Peace guard his ashes here, and paradise,
With all its endless bliss be open to him.

North. Our grief be on his grave. Our present duty
Enjoins to see his last commands obey'd.
I hold it fit his death be not made known
To any but our friends. To-morrow early
The council shall assemble at the Tower.
Mean while, I beg your grace would strait inform

[To the Duchess Of Suffolk. Your princely daughter of our resolution; Our common interest in that happy tie, Demands our swiftest care to see it finish'd.

Duchess S. My lord, you have determined well. Lord Guilford, 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 Duchess Of Suffolk, and Duke Of Northumberland.

Guil. Wilt thou not spare a moment from thy sorrows, And bid these bubbling streams forbear to flow?

Wilt thou not give one interval to joy;

One little pause, while humbly I unfold

The happiest tale my tongue was ever blest with?

Lady J. G. My heart is dead within me, every sense
Is dead to joy; but I will hear thee, Guilford,
Nay, I must hear thee, such is her command,
Whom early duty taught me still t'obey.
Yet, oh! forgive me, if to all the story,
Though eloquence divine attend thy speaking,
Though ev'ry muse and ev'ry grace do crown thee;
Forgive me, if I cannot better answer,
Than weeping thus, and thus

Guil. If 1 offend thee,
Let me be dumb for ever.
What is my peace or happiness to thfac?
No; though our noble parents had decreed,
And urg'd high reasons, which import the state,
This night to give thee to my faithful arms,
My fairest bride, my only earthly bliss

Lady J. G. How! Guilford! on this night?

Guil. This happy night: Yet if thou art resolv'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 corpse before thee: Let me be swept away with things forgotten, Be huddled up in some obscure blind grave, Ere thou shouldst say my love has made thee

wretched, Or drop one single tear for Guilford's sake.

Lady J. G. 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'd towards thee long: Thy sweetness, virtue, and unblemish'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. 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.

Lady J. G. 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 Jane;
But if good Heav'n has any joys in store,
Let them be all thy own.

Guil. Thou wondrous goodness!
And, oh! if, as my fond belief would hope,
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 bosom's native peace,
Lift up the light of gladness in thy eyes,
And cheer thy heaviness with one dear smile.

Lady J. G. Yes, Guilford, I will study to forget All that the royal Edward has been to me, How we have lov'd, even from our very cradles. My private loss no longer will I mourn, But ev'ry tender thought to thee shall turn: With patience I'll submit to Heav'n's decree, And what I lost in Edward find in thee. But, oh! when I revolve what ruins wait Our sinking altars and the falling state: When I ronsidor what my native land Expected from her pious sov'reign's hand;

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