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Gates. Is there po help in all the healing art
, SCENE I.-The Court.
No potent juice or drug to save a life Enter the Duke of NORTHUMBERLAND, Duke
So precious, and prevent a nation's fate?
North. What has been left untried, that of SUFFOLK, and Sir JOHN GATES.
could do ? North. 'Tis all in vain ; Heaven has required The hoary wrinkled leech has watched and toiled its pledge,
Tried every health-restoring herb and gum, And he must die.
And wearied out his painful skill in vain. Suff: Is there an honest heart,
Close, like a dragon folded in his den, That loves our England, does not mourn for Ed- Some secret venom preys upon his heart; ward?
A stubborn and unconquerable flame The genius of our isle is shook with sorrow; Creeps in his veins, and drinks the streams of life; He bows his venerable head with pain,
His youthful sinews are unstrung; cold sweats And labours with the sickness of his lord. And deadly paleness sit upon his visage; Religion melts in every holy eye; .
And every gasp we look shall be his last. All comfortless, afflicted, and forlorn,
Gates. Doubt not, your graces, but the Popisi She sits on earth, and weeps upon her cross,
faction Weary of man, and his detested ways: Will at this juncture urge their utmost force. Even now she seems to meditate her flight, All on the princess Mary turn their eyes, And waft her angels to the thrones above. Well hoping she shall build again their alters North, Ay, there, my lord, you touch our hea- And bring their idol-worship back in triumpi. viest loss.
Good Heaven, ordain some better sin With him our holy faith is doomed to suffer;
for England ! With him our church shall yeil her sacred front, Suff. What better
can we hope, if she should That late from heaps of Gothic ruins rose,
reign In her first native simple majesty ;
I know her well; a blinded zealot is she; The toil of saints, and price of martyrs' blood, A gloomy nature, sullen and severe ; Shall fail with Edward, and again old Rome Nurtured by proud presuming Romish priests, Shall spread her banners; and her monkish host, Taught to believe they only cannot err, Pride, ignorance, and rapine, shall return; Because they cannot err; bred up in scorp Blind bloody zeal, and cruel priestly power, of reason, and the whole lay world; instructed Shall scourge the land for ten dark ages more. To hate whoe'er dissent from what they teach;
To purge the world from heresy by blood; The great Alcides of our state, is present.
Whatever dangers menace prince or people,
Nor need a second in the glorious task ;
Blind to events, too easy of persuasion,
And often, too, too often, have I erred:
Much therefore have I need of some good man,
Might guide my treading through our present
I know not one of all our English peers,
[Erit GATES. Pem. What shall I answer to a trust so noble,
Were not your grace too generous of soul,
To speak a language differing from your heart,
How might I think you could not mean this But with the soonest I expect her here.
To one, whom his ill fortune has ordained
North. No more ; I scorn a thought
So much below the dignity of virtue.
But, on a point like this, when equal merit
Stands forth to make its bold appeal to honour,
[Erit SUFFOLK. Away with all the fondnesses of nature ! North. What trivial influences hold dominion I judge of Pembroke and my son alike. O'er wise men's counsels, and the fate of em- Pem. I ask no more to bind me to your serpire !
As for my son ; and beauty be the umpire.
But now a heavier matter calls opon us;
(Exit NORTH. Enter the Earl of PEMBROKE.
Old Winchester cries to me oft, Beware
Suspecting him to favour the new teachers :
But vere it so, what are these monkish quarrels, | Like all thou canst imagine wild and furious, These wordy wars of proud ill-mannered school Now drive me headlong on, now whirl me back, men,
And hurl my unstable ditting soul
Enter Sir John GATES.
Gates. The lords of council The noblest youth our England has to boast of, Wait with impatience. Has made me long the partner of his breast. Pem. I attend their pleasure. Nay, when he found, in spite of the resistance This only, and no more, then. Whatsoever My struggling heart had made to do him justice, Fortune decrees, still let us call to mind That I was grown his rival, he strove hard, Our friendship and our honour. And since love And would not turn me forth from out his bosom, Condemns us to be rivals for one prize, But called me still his friend. And see! He Let us contend, as friends and brave men ought, comes.
With openness and justice to each other ;
That he, who wins the fair one to his arins, Enter Lord GUILFORD.
May take her as the crown of great desert; Oh, Guilford ! just as thou wert entering here, And if the wretched loser does repine, My thought was running all thy virtues over, His own heart and the world may all condem And wondering how thy soul could choose a
(Eri: Pex, partner,
Guil. How cross the ways of life lie! Wok So much unlike itself.
we think Guil. How could my tongue
We travel on direct in one high road, Take pleasure and be lavish in thy praise ! And have our journey's end opposed in view, How could I speak thy nobleness of nature,
A thousand thwarting paths break in upon us, Thy open manly heart, thy courage, constancy, To puzzle and perplex our wandering steps; And in-born truth, unknowing to dissemble ! Love, friendship, hatred, in their turns, mislead 35 Thou art the man in whom my soul delights ; And every passion has its separate interest: In whom, next Heaven, I trust.
Where is that piercing foresight can unfold Pem. Oh, generous youth !
Where all this mazy error will have end, What can a heart, stubborn and fierce, like mine, And tell the doom reserved for me and PeaReturn to all thy sweetness ?-Yet I would,
broke? I would be grateful.-Oh, my cruel fortune! There is but one end certain, that is death: Would I had never seen her, never cast
Yet even that certainty is still uncertain. Mine eyes on Suffolk's daughter !
For of these several tracks, which lie before IS Guil. So would I !
We know that one leads certainly to death, Since 'twas my fate to see and love her first. But know not which that one is. 'Tis in vain, Pem. Oh! Why should she, that universal This blind divining ; let me think no more on't: goodness,
And see the mistress of our fate appear ! Like light, a common blessing to the world, Rise, like a comet, fatal to our friendship,
Enter Lady JANE GRAY. Attendants And threaten it with ruin?
Hail, princely maid! who, with auspicious beauty, Guil. Heaven forbid !
Chear'st every drooping heart in this sad place; But tell me, Pembroke, is it not in virtue Who, like the silver regent of the night, To arm against this proud imperious passion ? Lift'st up thy sacred beams upon the land, Does holy friendship dwell so near to envy, To bid the gloom look gay, dispel our horrors, She could not bear to see another happy? And make us less lament the setting sun. If blind mistaken chance, and partial beauty, L. J. Gray. Yes, Guilford; well dost thou Should join to favour Guilford
compare my presence Pem. Name it not !
To the faint comfort of the waning moon : My fiery spirits kindle at the thought,
Like her cold orb, a cheerless gleam I bring: And hurry me to rage.
Silence and heaviness of heart, with dews Guil. And yet I think
To dress the face of nature all in tears.
But every moment cuts away a hope,
Adds to our fears, and gives the infant saint And yet perhaps thou mightst; thy gentle tem- Great prospect of his opening Heaven. per
L. J. Gruy. Descend, ye choirs of angels, to Is formed with passions mixed with due propor- receive him! tion,
Tune your melodious harps to some high strain, Where no one overbears, nor plays the tyrant, And waft him upwards with a song of triumph ; But join in nature's business, and thy happiness: A purer soul, and one more like yourselves, While mine, disdaining reason and her laws, Ne'er entered at the goldeu gates of bliss.
Oh, Guilford! what remains for wretched Eng- ; Of this dear hand would kindle life anew. land,
But I obey, I dread that gathering frown; When he, our guardian angel, shall forsake us ? And, oh! whene'er my bosom swells with pasFor whose dear sake Heaven spared a guilty land, sion, And scattered not its plagues while Edward And my full heart is pained with ardent love, reigned !
Allow me but to look on you, and sigh ; Guil. I own my heart bleeds inward at the 'Tis all the humble joy that Guilford asks. thought,
L. J. Gray. Still wilt thou frame thy speech And rising horrors crowd the opening scene.
to this vain
purpose, And yct, forgive me, thou, my native country, When the wan king of terrors stalks before us, Thou land of liberty, thou nurse of heroes, When universal ruin gathers round, Forgive me, if, in spite of all thy dangers, And no escape is left us? Are we not New springs of pleasure flow within my bosom, Like wretches in a storm, whom every moment When thus 'tis given me to behold those eyes, The greedy deep is gaping to devour?" Thus
gaze, and wonder, how excelling nature Around us see the pale despairing crew Can give each day new patterns of her skill, Wring their sad hands, and give their labour o'er; And yet at once surpass them.
The hope of life has every heart forsook,
And horror sits on each distracted look;
One solemn thought of death does all employ, But on a day like this, the raven's note
And cancels, like a dream, delight and joy; Strikes on my sense more sweetly. But no more; One sorrow streams from all their weeping eyes, I charge thee' touch the ungrateful theme no more; And one consenting voice for mercy cries; Lead me to pay my duty to the king,
Trembling, they dread just Heaven's avenging To wet his pale cold hand with these last tears, power, And share the blessings of his parting breath. Mourn their past lives, and wait the fatal hour. Guil. Were I like dying Edward, sure a touch
What shall I say to bless you for this goodness? Enter the Duke of NORTHUMBERLAN D, and ih And all the business of my years to come,
Oh, gracious princess ! But my life is yours, Duke of SUFFOLK.
Is, to attend with humblest duty on you, Nor. Yer then be cheered, my heart, amidst And pay my vowed obedience at your feet. thy mourning.
. Yes, noble youth, I share in all Though fate hang heavy o'er us, though pale fear thy joys, And wild distraction sit on every face;
In all the joys which this sad day can give. Though never day of grief was known like this, The dear delight I have to call thee son, Let me rejoice, and bless the hallowed light, Comes like a cordial to my drooping spirits ; Whose beams auspicious shine upon our union, It broods with gentle warmth upon my bosom, And bid me call the noble Suffolk brother. And melts that frost of death which hung about
Suff. I know not what my secret soul presages, But something seems to whisper me within, But haste! inform my daughter of our pleasure: That we have been too hasty. For myself, Let thy tongue put on all its pleasing eloquence, I wish this matter had been yet delayed; Instruct thy love to speak of comfort to her, That we had waited some more blessed time, To soothe her griefs, and cheer the mourning Some better day, with happier omens hallowed,
maid. For love to kindle up his holy flame.
North. All desolate and drowned in flowing But you, my noble brother, would prevail,
tears, And I have yielded to you.
By Edward's bed the pious princess sits; Nor. Doubt not any thing ;
Fast from her lifted eyes the pearly drops Nor hold the hour unlucky, that good Heaven, Fall trickling o'er her cheek, while holy ardour Who softens the corrections of his hand, And fervent zeal pour forth her labouring soul; And mixes still a comfort with afflictions, And every sigh is winged with prayers so Has given to-day a blessing in our children,
potent, To wipe away our tears for dying Edward. As strive with Heaven to save her dying lord.
Suff. In that I trust. Good angels be our guard, Duch. Suff. From the first early days of infant And make my fears prove vain! but see, my wife! life, Vith her, your son, the generous Guilford comes; A gentle band of friendship grew betwixt them; he has informed him of our present purpose. And while our royal uncle Henry reigned,
As brother and as sister bred together, Enter the Duchess of SUFFOLK, and Lord
Beneath one common parent's care they lived. GUILFORD.
North. A wondrous sympathy of souls conGuil. How shall I speak the fulness of my heart? spired
To form the sacred union. Lady Jane Your father, and his own, ordain your husband: Of all his royal blood was still the dearest ; What more concerns our will and your obedience, In every innocent delight they shared;
We leave you to receive from him at leisure. They sung, and danced, and sat, and walked to (Ereunt Duke and Duchess of SUFFOLE, gether;
and Duke of NORTHUMBERLAND Nay, in the graver business of his youth,
Guil. Wilt thou not spare a moment from thy When books and learning called him from his
And bid these bubbling streams forbear to fior! Even there the princely maid was his companion. Wilt thou not give one interval to joy, She left the shining court to share his toil, One little pause, while humbly I unfold To turn with him the grave historian's page, The happiest tale my tongue was ever blest with? And taste the rapture of the poet's song;
L. J. Gray. My heart is dead within me ; evoTo search the Latin and the Grecian stores,
ry sense And wonder at the mighty minds of old. Is dead to joy: but I will hear thee, Guilford; Enter Lady JANE GRAY, weeping.
Nay, I must hear thee, such is her command,
Whom early duty taught me still to obey. L. J. Gray. Wilt thou not break, my heart ! Yet, oh! forgive me, if to all the story, Suff. Alas, what mean'st thou?
Though eloquence divine attend thy speaking
. Guil. Oh, speak !
Though every muse, and every grace, do croma Duch. Suff. How fares the king?
thee, North. Say, is he dead?
Forgive me, if I cannot better answer, 1. J. Gray. The saints and angels have him. Than weeping-thus, and thus Duch. Suft: When I left him,
Guil. If I offend thee, He seemed a little cheered, just as you entered. Let me be dumb for ever: Let not life L. J. Gray. As I approached to kneel and pay Inform these breathing organs of my voice, my duty,
If any sound from me disturb thy quiet. He raised his feeble eyes, and faintly smiling, What is my peace or happiness to thine? Are you then come? he cried: I only lived, No; though our noble parents had decreed, To bid farewell to thee, my gentle cousin; And urged high reasons, which import the state, To speak a few short words to thee, and die. This night to give thee to my faithful arīns, With that he prest my hand, and, oh !-he said, My fairest bride, my only earthly blissWhen I am gone, do thou be good to England, L. J. Gray. How! Guilford ! on this night? Keep to that faith in which we both were bred, Guild. This happy night; And to the end be constant. More I would, Yet, if thou art resolved to cross my fate, But cannot_There his faultering spirits failed, If this, my utmost wish, shall give thee pain, And turning every thought from earth at once, Now rather let the stroke of death fall on me, To that blest place where all his hopes were And stretch me out a lifeless corse before the fixed, Let me be swept away, with things forgotten
, Earnest he prayed ;-Merciful, great defender ! Be huddled up in some obscure blind grave, Preserve thy holy altars undefiled,
Ere thou shouldst say my love has made the Protect this land from bloody men and idols,
wretched, Save my poor people from the yoke of Rome, Or drop one single tear for Guilford's sake. And take thy painful servant to thy mercy!-- L. J. Gray. Ålas ! I have too much of death Then, sinking on his pillow, with a sigh,
already, Ile breathed his innocent and faithful soul And want not thine to furnish out new home, Into his hands who gave it.
Oh! dreadful thought, if thou wert dead indeed Guil. Crowns of glory,
What hope were left me then? Yes, I will 063 Such as the brightest angels wear, be on him! Spite of the blush that burns my maiden check
, Peace guard his ashes here, and paradise, My heart has fondly leaned towards thee lone With all its endless bliss, be open to him! Thy sweetness, virtue, and unblemished reath
, North. Our grief be on his grave. Our pre- Have won a place for thee within my boson: sent duty
And if my eyes look coldly on thee now, Enjoins to see his last commands obeyed. And shun thy love on this disastrous day, I hold it fit his death be not made known It is because I would not deal so hardly, To any but our friends. Tomorrow, early, To give thee sighs for all thy faithful vows, The council shall assemble at the Tower.
And pay thy tenderness with nought but teats Mean while, I beg your grace would strait inform And yet, 'tis all I have.
*[To the Duchess of SUFFOLK. Guil. I ask no more; Your princely daughter of our resolution; Let me but call thee mine, confirm that hope, Our common interest in that happy tie
To charm the doubts which ves my anxious sot Demands our swiftest care to see it finished. For all the rest, do thou allot it for me, Duch. Suff
. My lord, you have determined well. And, at thy pleasure, portion out my Lord Guilford,
My eyes shall learn to smile or weep from this Be it your task to speak at large our purpose. Nor will I think of joy while thou art sad; Daughter, receive this lord as one whom I,
Nay, couldst thou be so cruel to command in