University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

SCENE the Tower.
Gardner solus.
Gard.
Young Edward dead! the Crown Intail'd on Jane!
All looks like dreadful Truth: for late last night
Suffolk's proud Dutchess, and her Pageant Daughter,
Enter'd these Walls with a profuse Retinue.
Omnipotence! what mean'st thou! fatal Cæsar!
Curst be the Winds that drove thee on our Shore;
A Storm brought thee to us, and ever since
The Storms of War has lodg'd within our Bowels.
And curst be the Foundation of these Walls;
When thou didst build this Castle to maintain
Thy ill got Empire, 'twas first rear'd in Blood,
And since with Blood of Princes often stain'd;
A Cittadel for this Rebellious City,
The Scene of Murders, Slaughter-House of Kings!
And Court of Hellish Plots—Ha! yonder comes
Northumberland like a Prodigious Meteor,
That threatens Desolation where it hovers,
Dudley the Great, and Monarch of his Prince.
Enter Northumberland with Attendance, seeing Gardner, offers to pass over the Stage.
My Lord.

North.
What says my Lord of Winchester?
Y'are breathing in the freshness of the Morning?

Gard.
The King's poor Prisoners, Sir, are glad to take
The Benefit of any little Air.
I've borrow'd of my Chains this precious Freedom,
To learn what News; and if the King be dead,
Pray of what Sickness dy'd he then, my Lord?
You can inform me.

North.
Why ask you that of me? was I his Doctor?
Besides, that bold Physician that had dar'd
Consult with Gardner of his precious Health,
I'd have him hang'd.

Gard.
For giving good Advice.
Come, come, look back, and turn your Eyes at home.
'Tis not for me, my Lord, my Sacred Function,
To arm this Breast with Rage to cope with yours.
My Innocence is the best Guard to fight
With Wrongs, and Ghostly Council all my Weapons.
Just Heav'n, I fear, too soon will make it known,
What sad Distemper has so long afflicted
The King and Kingdoms, and th'Aggressors too.

North.
Priest, fare you well, if you begin to Preach.

Gard.
My Lord, I hear the Princess Mary's sent for.
Pray Heav'n you mean her kind.

North.
And dare you question
The King's most Royal dealing with his Sister?

Gard.
No, did his Mercy rule without a Curb;
But where Northumberland does Reign, I doubt it.

North.
You are a Traitor.

Gard.
Proud, bad Man! 'tis false.
Were both our Breasts laid open to Mens view,
This place had then been yours, and I no Traytor.
Remember that he had two Unkles once—
Oh wretched Land! forgive that I'm so cruel
To rip thy Wounds up with my Tongue afresh
In their Remembrance.

North.
Let thy own Bosom now
Judge betwixt thee and the Queen's Godlike Mercy.
That thou the worst of Traytors should be spar'd
To rail at Rebels Punishment.

Gard.
Waving the Scarlet Train of all thy other Murders,
The least of which has Guilt enough to damn thee;
O think of Somerset, that brave good Man!
The Faithful Guard and Patron of his Country,
As well as the Protector of his Prince.
That Cedar was too tall for thee proud Shrub!
And therefore Dudley held the Infant King,
That else had not the Will, nor Strength enough
To give the Blow, and made him with his Left
Cut off his Dear Right Arm.

North.
Thou ly'st, proud Prelate.

Gard.
Dispower'd himself by thy pernicious Council,
At once of more than all his bleeding Realms
Have left; of Somerset, who while he liv'd,
Stood like the Bulwark of his Breast and Kingdoms.
When this was done, 'twas dreaded what would follow;
Alas! 'twas fear'd, as now 'tis come to pass,
The Sickness of the King, and woful Death.

North.
Ha!

Gard.
Does it sting you? Duke, it is suspected
You deal with Knaves and Sorcerers, else why
Were the Physicians taken from the Patient,
And an old Woman plac'd to give him Filters?
With wither'd Chaps, and Eyes like Basilisks,
To fright the King, that, had she not been Witch,
Her looks had brib'd a Jury to Condemn her.

North.
Tho' all that can be utter'd from the mouth
Of such a Priest, is neither Truth, nor Scandal;
Yet thy vile Language I return upon thee,
And like Infection, it shall seize thee first.
I'll crush thee to a Pedant once again,
And in a Dungeon thou shalt howl for this.

Gard.
Th'art base enough to do it; yet I'll urge thee—
Angels now waft the Spirit of the King:
And since he's dead,
There lives a Princess will revenge this Wrong,
When Injur'd Norfolk, Courtney, and my self,
Shall live to see thy head upon a Pole
As high as yonder Tower.

North.
Where are the Guards?
Who gave this Traytor Freedom from his Chamber?
[To the Guards.
Dumb! Seize him straight, and clap him fast in Bolts,
Shut him as close as in his Tomb alive—
Go, Coffin him; it is the Queen's Command.
That hour his head is seen without his Dungeon,
Your Villains lives shall pay for the Offence.

Enter Pembrook.
Pemb.
How's this, my Lord! what, executing Rigour!
Now when the Nation is all over Gladness?
So near the Presence of that Royal Bride!
Whose Sight, like Heav'n, shou'd make this Prison Doors
Fly from their Hinges, and release their Charge—
Let go your Prisoner—haste, my Lord, to Suffolk,
Where Mary does increase in Power and Strength.
Post-Horses wait, to bring you there to Night;
Mean while the Queen shall be the Nation's Charge.

North.
Farewell, my Lord; commend me to our Mistress,
Tell her, her Soldier shall return with Lawrels—
Why shout you not! why say you not, Amen?
Methinks y'are all struck dumb—So when I left
The Queen, with Orders in my hand, ye all stood mute,
Only the shapes of Men without a Voice:
Ye bow'd your heads indeed, but not one cry'd
God speed the Duke—No matter, Friends farewell;
In Omens spite Northumberland shall on,
And on this Sword bring Victory to the Town.
[Exeunt North. and his Followers.

Pemb.
My Lord, pray read these Letters to the Council.

Gard.
Ha! This is from the Queen! Pray pardon me;
I mean our True and Lawful Princess Mary.

Pemb.
What does she say?

Gard.
She writes in the most gentile stile of Love,
And mild Perswasion to the Lords in Council,
If they'll forsake this Idol, and return
To Her, their True Undoubted Soveraign,
She does pronounce a Free and General Pardon,
With an Oblivion of all Crimes to All,
(Northumberland and the Usurpers only
Excepted)—Heav'n inspire the Altars of your Breasts,
And kindle there your long extinguish'd Duties;
Then wou'd I bless this hand of Providence,
And th'Angel that did guide it.

Pemb.
As you wish
So is it come to pass.

Gard.
Are you in earnest!
Why did you let Northumberland depart
To Head an Army?

Pemb.
'Tis of no strength, my Lord,
Besides uncertain; for his chiefest hopes
Are in the Succours we ingag'd to send him,
Which w' have Disbanded e're they cou'd be rais'd.
This Trayterous Duke, e're since the Good King's Death,
Confin'd us Prisoners here, as close as you,
None suffer'd to stir out by day, at night
The Keys, by Order, brought into the Chamber
Of this Mock-Queen.

Gard.
I scarce can guess his meaning.

Pemb.
I have Insenc'd the Lords, besides the Sin,
How hard it is to tug against the Stream
Of Royal Right; that e're these Letters came,
All soon resolving to forsake th'Usurper;
This Morning one by one releas'd themselves,
And fled to Baynard's Castle to Consult,
Where we have drawn the City to our Party;
Who, for Attonement of their Fault, intend
Straight to Proclaim the Royal Heiress.

Gard.
Most Noble, Lord! y'ave done a double Right,
Restor'd the Kingdoms, stench'd the Nation's Blood,
And sate the Crown upon a Lawful Head.

Pemb.
My Lord, this day Creates your Liberty.
To Morrow's high, and Blest Meridian Sun,
Sees not himself upon a Throne so Bright,
As you shall shine in Royal Mary's Favour,
Guide of the Realm, and Plannet of the Church.
O Jane! Th'art on the brink of Royalty—
Back to your Chains, and I to set you free.
Behold she comes—How unconcern'd she treads,
The narrow Plank that's o're the boisterous Strand,
Crowns on her Head, but Seas on either hand.

[Exeunt Gard. and Pemb.
Enter Jane, Women, and Attendants.
Ja.
In vain, alas! are Tears to purge this stain,
When these I hold, and still the Cause retain;
For e're my words can reach th'Almighty's Ear,
Thunder from high grows lowder than my Prayer.
Methoughts the Diamond Bolts of Heav'n were barr'd,
And straight the noise of falling Crowns I hear'd;
Which did, like Stars, in broken pieces fly,
And scatter'd o're the Crystal Pavement ly;
Whilst Angels thus aloud Proclaim'd, she Dies,
When Virtue Slave to tempting Glory lies,
'Tis just it fall Ambition's Sacrifice.
[Sits down, and takes Plato in her hand.
O Plato! Thou, that when the World was Night,
Taught Heathens how to see, and us the Light;
Whose Mouth, the longing Bees did make their Hive,
A true Presage thy Lips shou'd Honey give.
What say'st thou now, to ease my troubled Breast?
What's this? A Tyrant is the greatest Plague
[Reads.
The Gods can send to Men—
Ha! Tyrant! Ay, that Guilt shall be thy Fame,
And Plato brands thee with that hated Name—
[Lays down the Book, and falls on the floor.
Fetch me the Robes, the Adornments of your King,
And all the Pomp of the Ambitious bring,
Crowns, Scepters, Globes, till they an Hill shall be,
And underneath the Lumber bury me;
A proper Grave for such, who vainly try,
With waxen Wings to mount the Angry Skye.

Enter Gilford.
Gilf.
O you Blest Powers! What Prodigy is this!
Is this the day? Are these my Eyes, just Heaven!
What Seeds of Miracles has sown this Wonder!
My Queen beneath the Throne, upon the Floor!
Lift up thy Head most Blest of Humane Race!
In Tears too! O thou Brittain's Rising Sun!
Thus does thy Rival to the West return,
And leaves the World in blackest Shades to mourn.

Ja.
O thou dear Man? Thou soft, thou pretious Ruine!
That comes to Tempt me to another fall.
When thou art absent, frightful Visions haunt me,
England's sad Race of Monarchs, some Depos'd,
Some Slain with Daggers sticking in their Bosoms,
And others Banisht, glaring in their Shrouds,
All threatning me as Author of their Woes;
That Death I seek to rid me of the Pain,
But when thou com'st, I wish to live again.

Gilf.
Immortals! is it possible! Nor Crowns,
Nor Empire, State, nor Lust of Gawdy Power,
Can tempt thee from thy Adamantine Bounds;
But must like Stars be Foyls, when Cynthia shines,
And like Day-Fires, be buried in Eclipse,
Before this Heav'n of Virtue, Sun of Brightness.

Ja.
Dost thou not feel me tremble? my frighted Soul,
By starts, leaps from my Bosom to my Eyes,
Misjudging ev'ry Object that it sees,
And thinks they come from Heav'n to give me Doom.

Gilf.
For what?

Ja.
For Sin, for Usurpation.
O Gilford, clasp me, save me in thy Arms,
Support my burthen'd Spirits, sinking Head,
Weigh'd down with Crowns, and loaded with Ambition.
Let's fly my Love, from this tempestuous State,
Descend betimes from this disturb'd high Mountain,
Guarded with Terrours, and with Crowds Besieg'd,
E're Life gets on the Wing, and Love forsakes
His troubl'd Nest, to build in Heav'ns safe Shades.
In Shepherds Clothes, let thee and I repair,
To some lone Vale, like Tempe's Golden Bowers,
To Love away the Day, and Charm the tedious Hours.

Gilf.
'Tis but a Night, my Soul! my Happiness!
This Vision of a Crown has lasted me,
And thou hast made me weary of't already.
Do all, when they've injoy'd this Golden Dream,
So soon Repent?

Ja.
Usurpers like our selves.
Alone we shall be Plagu'd with Ghostly Storms,
Conjur'd by this our Guilt; amidst our Guards
Be most in fear; at Meals we ne're shall eat,
Without a Weapon hanging by a Hair,
And pointed o're our Heads; and every Night
Our Dreams shall forge Revenging Thunderbolts,
Or else, like Brutus, in our closest Studies,
We shall have Murther'd Cæsar ever in our eyes;
And when, at last, w'are frighted into Frenzy,
Depos'd of Crowns, Ambition still will haunt us;
And wretched, as we shall be, think of Reigning,
And act the Tyrant still, altho' it be
Like mad Men in an Hospital—O pity'd State!

Gilf.
Ha! canst thou think thy Gilford such a Monster?
O give me way, yet nearer to thy Soul,
Open thy Bosom, and let in this Criminal,
The Shrine, the Sanctuary for all my Fears.
Had I usurp'd the Universal Rule,
Hunted its Kings like Droves about the World,
Cast all their Crowns in one upon this Head,
And, till it reach'd the Sky, pil'd Throne on Throne,
For all my Crimes thy Virtues can Attone.
Where shall we turn to rest? for here we walk
On burning Scepters, and on glowing Crowns,
Whilst threatning Clouds are Marching o'er our heads
To pour like Spouts upon us.

Ja.
Let us in some disguise escape this night,
And throw our selves at Royal Mary's Feet;
Then quit for ever this infected Throne;
No more deluded be by Glory's Charms,
We'll find the World in one anothers Arms.
[Both rise.
Our Portion shall the boundless Empire be
Of true Love, Innocence and Liberty;
For here we are—
Shut like the Patriarch in the Ark alone,
View all the Waters, and the World our own,
But yet, alas! Imprison'd in a Throne.

[Going out, meets Duke and Dutchess of Suffolk.
Suff.
What now! Is this like England's Majesty!
Again in sadness! hunting doleful Corners!
Who have the vast, luxurious Globe to rove in.
Without your Guards! shut from your longing Subjects,
Who, banish'd from your Chambers, make such moan,
As Birds lament the absence of the Sun.

Dutch.
Ingrateful Daughter! more Inhuman Gilford!
Wing'd with my Royal Right, th'ast pitch'd upon
The highest and most envy'd Throne in Europe,
And brought into Possession of those Charms,
With whose injoyment, tho' inrich'd with Crowns,
Thou art not satisfy'd—Shame of great Dudley's Blood!

Ja.
O Mother!

Gilf.
Best of Mothers! Parent of my Love!

Dutch.
Did I for thee refuse my Claim of Empire!
And, lest the dazling Crown should tempt my Mind,
Put out the darling light of my Ambition,
That thou should'st shine the brighter.

Ja.
Father!

Dutch.
Unnatural Off-spring of my Blood!
O shut thy Ears against the Crocodil.
For a few cunning Tears by Gilford shed,
Which he but feign'd to save his Father's life,
She did not scruple then t'Usurp the Throne,
Which now her Conscience will not let her keep
To save both ours—O that thou wert again
An Infant, sucking at thy Nurses Breast,
And I forewarn'd thou would'st have prov'd so mean,
I wou'd have snatch'd thee sprawling, from the Nipple,
And stamp'd thy Brains out, thus, against the Stones.

Ja.
How wretched is my State! I either must
My Virtue lose, or Duty to my Parents;
Yet witness all you Angels, and my Mother,
Since either you or I must be a Queen,
That one of us must be the loath'd Usurper,
I'm glad the Fate has light upon this Brow;
For I had rather bear the Guilt than you.

Dutch.
Do, weep, that I may scorn thee.
By Heav'n there's not a Tear shed for so base
A Cause, but draws an angry Curse upon thee.

Ja.
O cruel Mother!
Why threatens that belov'd harmonious Voice,
Like softest Strings that jar when out of Tune:
That Tongue was made for Blessings, not for Curses.
If you will curse, O curse us from your Presence,
Curse us beyond the Sun's forsaken Bed,
Where we'll be banish'd, curse us when w'are dead.

Gilf.
With Heav'n consent, that we may streight lay down
This Atlas Load, this weight of Royalty,
This living Grave of Mountains o'er our heads,
And fly to Mary Heav'ns Annointed Queen,
To purge this Guilt, and save my Father's Blood;
For here are all th'Almighty's Plagues at once.

Dutch.
Dull Monster! Idiot! Thousand Fools in one!

Gilf.
We lie on Pillows stuff'd with Adders stings,
And never eat without the dread of Poysons,
Nor wear the Crown, for fear in putting off,
Like Centaurs Blood, it tear the Flesh away.
No Peace by Day, nor Sleep at Night we find,
For Usurpation ever in our mind.
No place to rest, for when we wou'd lie down
A Guard of Ghosts with Spears surround the Throne.
O set us streight from this Inchantment free,
For they in Hell are more at ease than we.

Dutch.
What Guilt! what Centaurs Blood should fright a Queen!
Give me the Crown—behold it on your Mother;
It sits on me more light than if it were
[Puts on the Crown.
A Garland of soft Roses on my Head.
I feel no Poyson in't, nor Magick Charm,
Unless it be its Gems that shine to me
Bright as the Eyes of wanton Goddesses,
Or Heav'ns blew Frame with Studs of Stars adorn'd.
And I dare sit me down in Edward's Chair,
[Sits down.
Without the dread of Royal Ghosts to fright me.
I feel no Adders stings, bus 'tis as soft
To me as those that lean on Virgins Bosoms.
Shou'd Harry's Corps, and Richmond's Shade, with all
The Tudors, Grim Plantagenets surround me,
Burst from their Marble Tombs, and gaping Urns,
With Scutcheons, Murrions, Gantlets, Corslets, arm'd,
That make the Living fear'd, and Dead more aweful;
Tho' Hell too joyn, and both conspire my fall,
I'd keep this Place, and Reign in spight of all.

Enter Pembrook, Gardner with the Great Seal, as Chancellor, with the rest of the Lords, Guards.
Suff.
Ha!

Dutch.
Gardner with the Seal! the Riddle Pembrook!

Ja.
What mean you by this Ceremonious silence?
Bring you more guilty Crowns to load me with?
More Serpents in a Wreath to plague this Brow,
Till 'tis a Gorgon's, or Medusa's head,
To fright my Parents with their Monstrous Birth?
Why is this Prologue of your down-cast looks?

Pemb.
O Star! O Brightness! Setting Sun of Virtue!

Ja.
What can this mean, but some new horrid Guilt!
What Massacre have I commanded, say?
What Murders has this Cruel Hand proscrib'd?
Pronounce the Fact, and then the dismal Sentence:
These dreadful Signs are worse than any Death.

Suff.
Say, Pembrook.

Dutch.
Speak, my Lord.

Pemb.
Illustrious Princess! Star of Heav'nly Virtue!
O Woman, born to be the Miracle
Of Fate, as well as wonder of thy Sex!
What can this Posture mean? this silent moan?
But signifie you must descend the Throne.

Gilf.
Ha!

Ja.
Say't again.

Pemb.
You are no longer Queen.

Ja.
Yet, yet once more.

Dutch.
Treacherous Impostor! Traytor Pembrook!

Suff.
My Lords—

Pemb.
And yet to us the satisfaction
Is not more great to plant it where 'tis due,
Than are our Griefs to take the Crown from you.

Suff.
O Jane! we have undone thee.

Ja.
O proceed.

Pemb.
The Council in Remorse, not hate to you,
At Baynard's Castle first did vote you down,
With whom vast numbers of the City joyn'd,
And all Proclaim'd King Harry's Daughter Queen.

Ja.
Am I no longer Queen, say you? O joy!
Is this the News your dreadful Aspects threaten'd?
Now pitying Heav'n has heard my Prayers at last.
O Parents! Husband! You, my Lords, rejoyce,
And let these Tidings kindle in your Faces
Infectious Joy; for mine is full of Raptures.
Shout all you Host of Angels, shout Mankind,
My loaded Temples I'll with Pomp unbind.
O Parents, Husband, Kindred, Friends, what mean
The Current of these Tears, and heavier Looks?

Suff.
O Child, most blest that ever Parent got!
Thy Virtue makes my Blood in ev'ry Vein
(Which ought to prove a Mirror to my Daughter)
Blush to behold the Crystal Stream of thine
To run so pure from such a muddy Fountain.
Why dost not joyn with Heaven to curse this most
Inhumane Father, and this Panther Mother?

Ja.
Grieve you to see me lighten'd of a Crown!
You shou'd have wept when I first put it on.
Now my head's eas'd, my Conscience freed from pain,
I tread on Air, and I'm my self again.

Pemb.
Can you this turn of Fate so bravely bear?

Ja.
I can, and put it off as a Disease,
As I would take a Garland of May Flowers,
And throw it from me when the scent is gone.

Pemb.
And can you too, forgive this Revolution?

[To Gilf.
Gilf.
Forgive you! yes, you have so nobly done,
Angels shall envy you the glorious deed.

Ja.
Forgive you! Gilford, let us kneel and bless 'em.
O happy Mary! blest in such a Council!
And Pembrook, none so brave—you all shall shine
Chief Council to th'immortal Throne for this.
All Earth rejoyce, and ev'ry living thing
Of Jane's deposing joyful Tunes shall sing.
O Sir! O happy Womb that gave me Birth!
Weep, Weep no more, unless your Eyes send forth
Tears of Rich Joy, more kind than Summer's Rain,
Or welcome drops upon the scorching Plain.
Lift up your Thanks with us, the Heav'ns adore,
That Happy Gilford is a King no more.

Gilf.
Shout all for Gladness, 'twere less Sin to Mourn,
When Joy came to the World, when she was Born;
Sing that this Cursed Charm's unloos'd again,
That I am free, and Jane's no longer Queen.
Away my Love, the Beams from yonder Throne,
Are hot and parching as the burning Zone.

Ja.
My Lords, farewel; divided here from State,
Gilford and I will make our glad Retreat,
Quit this high ground, nor dread the Brambly Soyl,
But make it Pleasant with our Mutual Toyl;
And tho' you see us Poor and Naked driven,
Like our first Parents, from the Groves of Heaven;
Say not, alas! but Act your Queen's Command,
Guarding as Angels the forbidden Land;
And let your Loyalties for ever be,
Like Edens Bounds, to part the Throne and Me.

[Exeunt severally.