University of Virginia Library

Scene III.

Chamber in the Tower.
Enter Northumberland.
NORTHUMBERLAND.
These branching passages, and tortuous stairs,
And dark, low chambers (ghostly dens) confound me.
Methought the way to Courtenaye's cell was plain.
I have missed the clue: I'll rest me here awhile.
The Race of Dudley mounts—Had Jane no scruples—
Were Guilford wise as he is plausible,
Then were this new-cemented fabric firm,
And founded for endurance. Not so now.
Yet 'twas a glorious sight! Jane crowned and plumed,
On her proud palfrey—my fair son beside her—
Scarce less even now than King—England's broad banner
Flouting the wind before—a goodly sight!
But something lacked there: and that something grows
Ghost-like on questioning thought. From that great host
No greeting rose. Base hirelings only cheered.
The pageant drew the people, brought no hearts.
Therefore I seek young Courtenaye's cell; last heir
Of the Plantagenets and line of York.
He owes no grudge to me. Harry the Eighth
Loved not so fair a kinsman near the throne;
So slew his father, stout King Edward's grandson.
With Courtenaye then make I compact alliance.
The man is fair, nor overwise; and rumour
Whispers that Mary Tudor likes him well.
If Fortune fail, this princely fool my friend—
A woman for my foe—What light is that?

[Pushes a door open: finds a Headsman sharpening his axe.
HEADSMAN.
Plague on you—you disturb my trade.

NORTHUMBERLAND.
How now?

HEADSMAN.
God save you, good my Lord. I knew you not.

NORTHUMBERLAND.
Why look you on my throat so fixedly?

HEADSMAN.
Pardon, my Lord, it is a trick grew on me
Long years agone: it came when I cut off—

NORTHUMBERLAND.
What came, what came?

HEADSMAN.
Ah Sir! you'll not believe me.
'Twas but a double dealing of the eye,
Feigning a red line round a shapely throat.
I saw Anne Boleyn thus when she was crowned—
And she was done to death—was it not strange?
So Katherine Howard seemed at her last feast—
And she was done to death—and by this hand.
So seemed, when standing by his nephew's throne,
The great Protector Somerset—and he—

NORTHUMBERLAND.
No more of this. I seek Lord Devon's cell.

HEADSMAN.
This way, my Lord.

NORTHUMBERLAND.
Portents and warnings mock us—
Away! light omens shake not this firm heart.

[Exeunt.