University of Virginia Library

Scene I.

A Prison Chamber, Tower.
Northumberland at a table: Jane and Lord Guilford Dudley seated near.
NORTHUMBERLAND.
My soul is cheerful! fill the goblet high!
And I will pledge thy fortunes, daughter Jane!
In faith I'm joyous. Speak, my dainty Jane!
Your husband is beside you, and I live.
Ay, and shall live—arch planner—to rebuild
Our tottering fortunes. Fair philosopher!
Let me hear once again thy low, grave voice
Disposedly conversing. Laugh, my Son!
Waken these walls with jubilant acclaims!
Still silent? does my mirth confound you? Jane,
I tell thee thou shalt queen it yet. Thy babe
Shall wear a crown.

JANE.
No crown but martyrdom's
Will fit our brows. Indeed you are to blame, Sir.
This morning—nay, but one short hour agone—
You waited certain death. Believe me, Sir.
We all stand on the very brink of doom.

NORTHUMBERLAND.
So saith the preacher to the healthiest man:
And yet the man lives on. Tush! you are blind.
Do I not know my tool? this Exeter?
And what enamoured Queens will yield to lovers?
My head, be sure, was safe an hour ago:
And now this scrawl secures me beyond fate.

JANE.
Direct him, God! to profitable thoughts
For this great mercy!

NORTHUMBERLAND.
Rather let me learn
To improve good fortune. When the crown is thine—

JANE.
The crown for me—for mine?—never, Sir, never!
Too heavy lies one sin upon my soul!
I seek not—never sought—will wear no crown!

NORTHUMBERLAND.
Not seek it? Well—'Twill come unsought, I ween.

GUILFORD.
This morning, Father, you had messengers
From Wyatt. Said they well?

NORTHUMBERLAND.
All doubts removed:
All scruples satisfied—he's ours, our's only!

GUILFORD.
But how escape these walls—how join his power?

JANE.
O talk not of escape. We are spared: be thankful!
Abjure—what I ne'er felt—this false ambition:
Unprofitable—that I will not urge—
But most unholy: do not heed your father.

NORTHUMBERLAND.
But he shall heed me; and thou too, despite
Thy yea and nay.

JANE.
Have you no gratitude?
The Queen, no matter why, remits your doom.

NORTHUMBERLAND.
And am I not beholden to her Grace?
Good Mary Tudor—beauteous Mary Tudor—
Wise Mary Tudor! I shall not forget.
The time is coming—Ha! my confessor!
Enter Fakenham.
And trusty counsellor! why look you grave?
I'm in a merry mood. Bring you the warrant
Her Grace vouchsafed?

FAKENHAM.
I bring a warrant, Sir.

JANE.
See, see—his face is sad—his eyes are downcast.
His words equivocal—not thus, not thus,
Good tidings travel.

NORTHUMBERLAND.
What, man, know you not
The Queen's late change? you have been kinder to me
Than I had looked for, or deserved. Your step
Is heavy, and your countenance distraught.
I pray you, speak.

FAKENHAM.
Alas! unwillingly
I witnessed the Queen's change: her last—her saddest.

NORTHUMBERLAND.
Her last—what dost thou mean? Is the Queen dead?
Saddest—why then should Exeter be joyous?
Look not so grave, fair Jane! fear nothing, Jane!
Why speak you not? your mystery disturbs
These fearful captives. What saith Exeter?
How thrives he with the Queen?

FAKENHAM.
Let thoughts more serious
Subdue your spirit, Sir. When last we spake
Of sin and sorrow, and repentant hope,
It seemed your heart was touched, hard reason shamed.
Such my hope then—such now your only hope.

NORTHUMBERLAND.
Dark Sayer! does this answer meet my question?
What of the Queen? of Exeter?

FAKENHAM.
The Queen—
Body and soul are stricken to the earth.
The Princess and that minion Exeter
Shut up in prison—wherefore you will guess.

NORTHUMBERLAND.
I'm lost, I'm lost! trapped in my own wild snare.

FAKENHAM.
Madam, may it please you to retire: the time
Is short.

NORTHUMBERLAND.
What time—my time? Give me that paper.
What's this? Death! Death! sudden, unnatural death!
I'm blind! by heaven and hell I cannot die.
I am not fit to die—I dare not die!
O hypocrite! this work is thine—thou hat'st me—
As I have hated thee—I'll not deny it—
Thou hast done this!

FAKENHAM.
You wrong me. I would fain
Have saved thy life. Have I not saved thy soul?

NORTHUMBERLAND.
O pardon my distracted bearing, Sir!
You reasoned eloquently—whispered mercy—

FAKENHAM.
God is a God of mercy.

NORTHUMBERLAND.
Torturer!
Dost thou equivocate with pangs like mine?
Thou palterest still: yet canst thou save me, Priest.
Think of my soul! I cannot, unabsolved,
Pass to the presence of my Judge. Hark! hark!
[A sound of hammering is heard.
What noise is that? you hear it?

FAKENHAM.
This, indeed,
Would try the stoutest heart.

NORTHUMBERLAND.
The scaffold-workers!—
I'm cold—Oh very cold! Give me some wine—
Go, Jane! I shame that you should see me thus.

FAKENHAM.
Christian! be calm! yet all would stagger thus,
If anchored not by certain hope in heaven.

NORTHUMBERLAND.
Fakenham! your tongue is gifted to persuade—
Save me!—I will be—whatsoe'er you wish.

FAKENHAM.
Can you speak thus upon the scaffold?

NORTHUMBERLAND.
Ay—
Much more!—You muse—Is there yet hope? even then?
O say! I'll speak—I'll do—I know not what!
Anything—all you wish—spare but my life!
This is too sudden. I'm not fit to die!—
O for a death blow in the front of battle!
The shout of victory, or kinsmen's wail,
Above my dying head! It is not pangs,
Nor death itself, but this reverse that shakes me.
Despise me not, sweet Jane! can you not speak
One word of comfort to a dying father?

FAKENHAM.
Horror hath almost choked her. Take her hence:
This is no scene for women.

[Guilford leads Jane away.
NORTHUMBERLAND.
Is there hope,
Even on the scaffold, if I make profession
Of the true Faith?

FAKENHAM.
I know not. But make clean
Your heart by penitence. Prepare for death:
So shall your future life, if life be spared,
Prove worthier than the past. I seek the Queen.
Put trust in God alone; and He will spare.

[Exeunt severally.