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Gar. Learn it from me then: But eie I speak, I warn you to be master of yourself. Though, as you know, they have confin'd me long, Gra'mercy to their goodness, pris'ner here; Yet as I am allow'd to walk at large Within the Tower, and hold free speech with any, I have not dreamt away my thoughtless hours, Without good heed to these our righteous rulers. To prove this true, this morn a trusty spy Has brought me word, that yester evning late, In spite of all the grief for Edward's death, Your friends were marry'd.
Pem. Marry'd! who?
Gar. Lord Guilford Dudley, and the lady Jane.
Pem. I have lost
Gar. Your state is not so bad as you would make it; Nor need you thus abandon ev'ry hope. Pern. Ha! Wilt thou save me, snatch me from despair, And bid me live again.
Gar. She may be yours.
Gar. To-day,• or I am ill-inform'd, Northumber-
Ev'n in his highest hope But go not you;
Howe'er the fawning sire, old Dudley, court you; No, by the holy rood, I charge you, mix not
With their pernicious counsels. Mischief waits
them, Sure, certain, unavoidable destruction.
Pern. Ha! join with them! the cursed Dudley's race! Who, while they held me in their arms, betray'd me; Scorn'd me for not suspecting they were villains, And made a mock'ry of my easy friendship! No, when I do, dishonour be my portion, And swift perdition catch me;—join with them!
Gar. I would not have you—Hie you to the city, And join with those that love our ancient faith.
Gather your friends about you, and be ready
T assert our zealous Mary's royal title,
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.
Pern. No; give me vengeance: Give me to tell that soft deceiver, Guilford, Thus, traitor, hast thou done, thus hast thou wrong'd
me, And thus thy treason finds a just reward.
Gar. But soft! no more! the lords o'the council come. Ha! by the mass, the bride and bridegroom too! Retire with me, my lord ; we must not meet them.
Pern. Tis they themselves! Haste, Winchester, haste! let us fly for ever, And drive her from my very thoughts, if possible. Oh! Jove, what have I lost! 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 me, Thus at the gate stopp'd short for one last view! Then with the cheerless 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 saw 'twas vain his ruin to deplore, He try'd to give the sad remembrance o'er; The sad remembrance still return'd again, And his lost paradise renew'd his pain.
[Exeunt Pembroke and Gardiner.
Enter Lord Guilford and Lady Jane. Guil. What shall I say to thee! What power 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 F
hadi) J.G. Alas ! my dearest lord! a thousand griefs
Guil. Nothing but good can happen to thy Guilford, While thou art by his side, his better angel, His blessing and his guard.
Lady J. G. 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 mur
Guil. In safety here,
The feeble tottering state. To thee, my princess,
Lady J. G. How! from 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 tie Duchess of Suffolk.
Duchess S. No more 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 bosom, let thy soul enlarged, 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.
Lady J. G. Amazement chills my veins! What says my mother?
Duchess S. Tis Heaven's decree; for our expiring Edward, 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, Even then declar'd my Jane for his successor.
Lady J. G. 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,