University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

Pembroke
, solus.
Weep Heav'ns, fall Hail and Torrents from the Skye,
And when y'ave drein'd the Briney Ocean dry,
Weep on, and pour the Watery Globe and Night,
On the World's back, and quench this Orb of Light;
Or, for a dire presage of this black Day,
Throw all your Thunder, sportive Balls away,
Till with one horrid Universal crack,
The frighted Earth, and Frame of Nature shake;
As from wild Chaos, with one stroak 'twas born,
So back to nothing let the Mass return.
Enter Dutchess of Suffolk.
O Dutchess! O thou Curst and Wretched Mother,
Of all the Virtues of thy Sex in one!

Dutch.
What is't you say, my Lord!

Pemb.
O never Weep;
For shou'dst thou drown the World in Penitence,
Kneel, till your Joints had bor'd into the Marble,
And worn the Altar Steps away, and pray'd,
Till Heaven's Bright Book of Mercy wanted Leafs,
Thy number of Petitions to Record.
Yet all wou'd be in vain to Save thy Soul,
Hadst thou not brought this Saint into the World.

Dutch.
Alas! I was not Born to be so Curst,
To pull down Vengeance, or worse Death on her.
Nor Fate, nor Malice too, can be so Cruel,
To touch her Life.

Pemb.
O Jane! O pretious Light!
That thou shou'dst be the Off-spring of such Night!
Thus to our wonder, Nature often shews,
The Thorniest Brake, may bear the Sweetest Rose.
The rarest Graft, does from the Crab-Tree shoot,
And loathsom'st Soil begets the Richest Fruit.
Wise Providence no sooner did Create,
One Woman by mischance, to be Man's Fate,
But did another make to Save us straight.
O Heav'n! O Hell! To Mankind all, or nought!
O deadly Poison! Pretious Antidote!
Like Vipers, Good and Bad, ye Virtues have,
To cure the deadly wounds your Fellows gave.

Dutch.
Insult not o're the Frailties of a Woman,
But for Poor Jane, and for her Sister's sake
That lies in the soft Bosom of thy Son;
Join all thy Power and Interest with the Queen,
And throw 'em with thy self beneath her Feet
To beg for pitty, 'midst this Fatal Crew,
Her Father's Life and Hers: She cannot grant you less,
That snatcht the Crown from her Unlawful Head,
And put it on her own.

Pemb.
Last Night the Queen
Arriv'd at Greenwich, but Declares by Vow,
She will not see the Town, nor think of Mercy,
Till all are Sentenc'd, which must be this Morning,
Soon as the Lords are form'd in t' a Tribunal.
Northumberland by Arrundel Attach'd,
His greatest Foe, and Posted back to Town,
No sooner was Dismounted from his Horse,
But hurried to his Judges in the Hall.

Dutch.
The worst Severity on him, can ne're
Be thought too Cruel.

Pemb.
See, the Horrid Shew.
Lady Jane, Gilford, Northumberland, with three of his other Sons, the Marquess of Northampton, and several other Prisoners of Quality, pass over the Stage Guarded, as to their Tryals, in a Solmen Manner.
Behold! and if thou hast, nor Eyes, nor Daggers,
To penetrate within thy Marble Heart,
View here a sight wou'd Mortifie the Friends,
These thy own Bowels, which th'Inhumane hands,
Have torn from thence, and hurl'd to Execution;
Thy Husband, Daughter, Son in Law, poor Gilford!
The Marquess of Northampton, with his Friends—
The Wretched Dudly too! O pitious Object!
With four of his Unhappy Sons Attended,
In sad Procession, dismal Order come.

Dutch.
Ha! Is that Heav'n! and are not those her Followers.
A Golden Troop of Angels! No, they are not—
What does that Fiend Northumberland do with her!

Pemb.
See, how she takes her Gilford by the Hand,
Smiling upon him, and does seem to say,
'Tis a more welcome Coronation Day.
O Blest and Happy Train! In following her,
Your Crimes are all Atton'd for, and Forgiven,
Thus led by her, you needs must go to Heaven.

Dutch.
Ha!

Pemb.
Behold the Spoils of thy Luxurious Pride!
The Trophies of thy Female fierce Ambition!
O Woman! Born to put the Sin in thought,
Which your first Mother and the Devil got;
Lest Heav'n in Mercy shou'd forget the Stain,
And call the Curse on Mankind back again.

Dutch.
Where are they gone?

Pemb.
To Hell, where shou'd Northumberland be gone!
To suffer for the Sin that thou hast taught 'em;
For thy Ambition, to be scourg'd with Scepters,
With red hot Crowns their Temples to be sear'd,
And burning Globes be hurl'd about their Ears,
Like Tennis Balls, to make the Devils sport.

Dutch.
Ha! Have I found thee Ante-Monarchy!
Go, Preach Damnation to thy Cursed Tribe;
I'le hear no more such Doctrine.

Pemb.
How she stares!
How wild she talks! Heav'ns! I have done amiss.
This Sight and Apprehension of my words,
Have turn'd her Wits.

Dutch.
What say'st thou, Hypocrite? Avant—
I find thee now, thou art a Puritan,
A Pulpit Devil; I know thee by thy Cant,
And thy Geneva Tone, thy Cap and Night-Cap.

Pemb.
Hell!

Dutch.
I'le not to Hell; Hell is a Commonwealth,
A Parliament of Rebels.

Pemb.
Madam, resume your Wise Couragious Temper.
I was to blame, and meant not this in earnest,
By all my Hopes! I'me sorry for th'Attempt.
Your Daughter's Guardian Angel will Protect her,
Call back the Sentence of the Merciless Laws,
And stay the Ax from falling on her Head,
The Queen will—

Dutch.
Queen! Did you talk of Queens, and Axes, ha!
Run Slaves, fetch me my Rods and Axes, straight,
Haste to the Forum, usher in your Empress;
Lead to the Senate, and Proclaim my Coming;
Do they deny me Entrance! Down with the Gates,
Off with their Hinges; Seize the Capital,
I'le make 'em know, that I am Cæsar's Daughter.
Look, how the fearful Rogues in Scarlet crouch!
Their trembling Joints, and tottering Sconces shake,
Like Heads of Poppy on their quivering Stalks.
Give me the Crown Northumberland, I'le seize it—
Ha! Are you Mute! And will not Vote me then!
Where are my Legions?—Pile your Faggots round;
Burn this Rebellious Swarm within their Hive,
And set the Gawdy Streets of Rome on Fire—
O! Nero was a Gallant Prince!
[Exit Dutchess.

Enter Gardner with the Great Seal, Attendants.
Gard.
Most Noble Lord! Commanded by the Queen,
I am Commission'd, to make one amongst
The Judges of her Crown, the King's Bench Court;
An Honour, I am Proud of under Pembroke,
Who is to set Chief Justice for the Day.

Pemb.
My Lord of Winchester, and Chancellor,
This Favour of our Sovereign is Divine,
Yet not too Great for her we must Arraign.
Why have you left the Court of Peers, my Lords?
How is the Great Northumberland come off?
And the Bold Marquess of Northampton?

Gard.
Both are Condemn'd; but for the Duke of Suffolk,
The Queen has Pardon'd him before his Tryal.

Pemb.
A Happy Omen! may it be the Prologue,
To her more wisht for Mercy, to his Daughter.

Gard.
The Business of this Grand Consult, was short.
The Haughty Duke, who in Prosperity,
Towr'd like the King of Birds, and vy'd the Sun,
Whilst lesser Flyers of the lower Region,
Flagg'd out of sight, and panted to behold him;
Yet now, in his Disgrace, no humble Quarry,
Dasht from the Pounces of the frightful Hawk,
Did creep and tremble on the ground so vile.

Pemb.
The Nature of an Upstart, Base, and Mean,
None more Imperious, Lofty, Proud in Office;
But when Degraded, none more Cringing, Poor, and Fawning.

Gard.
He offer'd but a weak Defence, still Pleading,
That he did Act but by Authority,
And under the Impression of this Seal.
His main Exception, was against the Lords,
Urging they could not be his Lawful Judges,
By whose Commands in Council he Proceeded,
And they with him, Obey'd the Queen in Power.

Pemb.
A stunning Question, that.

Gard.
'Twas soon Resolv'd; this Seal, was prov'd to be
The Seal of an Usurper, no more Lawful,
Than any Rebel's putting on a Crown,
Makes a True King—Then for the Lords,
Wou'd you have all the Council Punish'd for
The Treason of this foul Rebellious Duke,
That one Man's curst Ambition drew 'em to?
That were a Cruel Decimation, worse
Than the most Barbarous Justice of Old Rome,
The Innocent to suffer with the Guilty,
As there, perhaps, the Valiant with the Coward.

Pemb.
Then my Lord,
For all these strong Exceptions of the Duke,
Since no Attainder was against the Peers,
His Brethren in Guilt, they by our Laws,
Were held as equal Judges as the best.

Gard.
They were—I'le wait on you, my Lord.

As they are going out, Suffolk meets them, and Jane, and Gilford, at at another Door, as going to their Tryals.
Gard.
My Lord of Suffolk, wou'd you ought with us?

Ja.
Alas, my Father!

Pemb.
What wou'd your Grace? The Court does stay, my Lord.

Suff.
If you want Woe, to set the nicest touch,
And Master stroak of Sorrow on this Scene?
To make this sad Tribunal more compleat
And solemn, than the last, partake of mine.

Pemb.
Wou'd you have any thing that we can grant you?

Suff.
I run to you for shelter from my Griefs;
But find I must despair to meet it here.
Such Storms of Misery have shook our House,
The Pillars of it crack beneath the weight;
And I am only left to tell the Story.
Ambitious Fires have sear'd us to the Bone,
Like Lightning pierc'd, and made its fatal way
Into the inmost Closets of the Mind.

Gard.
My Lord—

Suff.
The wretched Mother of that woful Daughter,
The Wife of this Inhumane Flinty Bosom
Is grown Distracted by a furious Grief,
Her Sence dug up, and rooted like a Mine,
Scourg'd by her Tyrant Sorrow from its Throne,
And, like a Fury, driven about its House.
Alas! she's mad.

Ja.
What said my Lord? What speaks my Father?

Suff.
Mad as the raging Billows of the Sea,
The bated Panther, or Nemæan Lyon;
Or as the Tyger in his search of Prey,
When cruel Appetite had whet his Fury.

Ja.
Just Heav'n! these are beginnings of the Treat
That w'are invited to partake e're long.

Suff.
O thou best Child of all thy tender Sex!
Thou Sanctuary of Innocence! Let me adore thee.
It was not long since these Ambitious Arms
Took thee by force, fast bound thee to the Throne,
And put the Crown with Threatnings on thy Head;
For which, my Lords, lift up your awful hands,
And with your Sword of Justice cut 'em off.
These Knees, the vile Examples to the Croud,
That taught 'em first to bow to my Ambition,
Let 'em do Pennance thus, and kneel for ever.

[Kneels.
Ja.
What means my Lord! I did not think to stain
My haughty and couragious Innocence
With the least drop; but this alas, has wrack'd me.
My Father's Woes, and Mother's dreadful Story
Has rung a Torrent from my bleding Eyes,
With fiercer pain than Vitals from my Heart:
O best of Fathers! wou'd you bless me, rise,
This is the worst of all Idolatries.

Gard.
My Lord of Pembrook, see the Court expects us.

Suff.
Stay, stay, you eager Ministers of Fate!
In whose one hand is Life, the other Death.

Pemb.
My Lord, what mean you?

Suff.
Is it for nought, dear Country Men, you see
A guilty Father kneeling to his Daughter?

Gard.
You act against the Justice of our Place,
We dare nor hear, nor suffer this, my Lord;
You must remove from hence till Sentence given.

Ja.
Rise, O my Father! Gilford, lend thy hand.
This posture does infect our Innocent Blood,
And makes me guilty of the shame I suffer.

Pemb.
My Lord, we must desire you to depart,
Or else desist, and leave us to our Duty.

Suff.
First, hear me, Lords, your Breath is as the Gods,
As is the voice of Heav'n, pronouncing Justice,
Let not grim Statutes, nor the Judges sway you.
Your Breasts are Oracles, and your Decrees
Inevitable Acts without Appeal.

Gard.
This is so great a Fact against the Laws,
Such Boldness to obstruct the course of Justice
We blush to hear, therefore, my Lord, be gone.

Suff.
What tho' the Law has stil'd her an Usurper,
Turn your Eyes inward, probe 'em to your hearts,
Your Consciences, from whom is no Appeal:
Know that your selves, the Judges, and the Lords
Gave both your Votes, your Threatnings, and your Prayers
To set this Innocent against her Will
Upon the Throne, for which she's now Arraign'd,
And for your faults must suffer as a Martyr.

Pemb.
My Lord—

Suff.
Yet, yet permit me.
Hold you that favour from a Duke, which you
Allow your common Prostitutes of Law?
A mouth stufft with the Frazes of his Client,
Suffer an Advocate to rail for Gain,
A Lawyer for his Fee, and will not hear
A wretched Father for his Daughter plead!

Gard.
You Preach to Rocks, and howl unto the Seas,
W'are deaf as they, to what we dare not hear.
You must obey the Dictates of the Law;
And so farewell.

[Exeunt Pemb. and Gard.
Suff.
Go then, but take a Fathers Curse along;
A wretched Father, blast of all his Issue.
May you like me despairing live, like me
See all your Children Slaughter'd in your sight,
And when you come to die; (consent to't Heav'n!)
If you, to save your selves, condemn this Saint,
May your black Souls on Blasphemy take Wings,
And meet your just Rewards, like Fiends in Hell.

Ja.
O Sir!

Suff.
Weep not, thou drooping Flower! thou mourning Angel!
Bright as a Cherubim thou shalt descend,
Or like a Planet gayer than the Sun,
Sit with the awfull Judge of all the World,
At the last day, Arraign 'em at the Bar
Of Heav'n, and plunge them into Fires for this.
Jane—

Ja.
Sir! O Father!

Suff.
O Son! O Daughter of my Bowels!
I bode these Eyes shall never see thee more.
Far as from Earth to the Immortal Dwelling,
This Moment parts thee from thy Wretched Father.
Stain not with Tears th'Injustice. nor thy Wrongs,
But let the Task of Weeping all be mine.

Ja.
This is a Tryal harder to be born
Than that we go to meet with.

Suff.
Hadst thou been set by Tygers in the Desart,
I cou'd have charm'd 'em sooner than thy Judges;
Or hadst been rack'd upon the milder Ocean,
I cou'd have swam, and born thee o'er the Billows;
Immur'd with fires, I cou'd have snatch'd thee thus,
And held thy Body in these Arms unscorch'd,
Pull'd thee from forth the Jaws of Plagues and Famine;
But from inexorable Laws and Judges
I cannot.

Ja.
Blame not the Laws, nor mitigate my Crime,
But bless the Queen that sav'd my Father's life,
Speak Comfort to my Mother, and be Loyal—
Farewell.

Suff.
Be Loyal! What a Parodox is that!
Can Suffolk Loyal be when thou art slain!
Preach Loyalty to Lucifer that fell
To Tygers that are rob'd, to Fiends in Hell,
But not to me, my Child. A long Farewell.
[Ex. Suff.

Scence draws and discovers Pembrook, Gardner, Judges, Officers, and all Formalities of the Court.
Pemb.
My Lord Chief Justice, and my Lords the Judges,
I am not ignorant that this great Session,
Is the most prime Prerogative of the Crown,
The highest and most awful Seat of Justice,
And that the Queen presides in Person here
Above all other Courts.

Gard.
Room for the Lady; make the Prisoners way.

Pemb.
Most Virtuous Lady, we intreat you sit.

Ja.
My Lord, you might have spar'd the stile of Virtuous;
Ill sits that Title on Delinquents Brows;
We come to be Arraign'd by other Names.

Gard.
Now, pray proceed, my Lord.

Pemb.
I come not here to alter any Rules;
Neither to act in favour, nor against
The Noble Prisoners now to be Arraign'd;
Nor that the Queen suspects your Trust, my Lords.
But know, most equal Judges of the Land,
This most unfortunate, this Princely Lady
Whom y'are to try, besides her Godlike Parts,
Such rare and vast Endowments of her Mind,
Which far excel all Paterns of her Sex
That ever went before her; likewise is
Of such high Birth, and of a Line so Sacred,
That the bright Beams proceeding from the Sun
Come not more near to the Imperial Light
That guilds the World, than she is to the Royal Fountain.
Yet so severe, so straiten'd are our Laws,
She cannot claim the Priviledge of her Peers,
Which some this day, though far beneath her Person,
In right of Blood, and Virtues are allow'd.

Gard.
First, let a Chair be brought.

Pemb.
We beg, you wou'd sit down.

Ja.
Shou'd I a Criminal, sit down before
My immortal Judge above, and Judges here?
Yet think not, Noble Lords, I hither come
Before my Mind had form'd within it self
The fiercest, grim Idea of your Justice,
Which e're a Mortal Guilt cou'd pull from Heav'n;
Nor think I can be frighted with your Forms,
Tho' all your Scarlet Robes shot Flames of Fire,
And all your words were Parthian Darts to hit me;
In my uneasie Pomp I felt the dread,
And when the fatal Crown was on my Head,
This Shew was in my Heart.

Gilf.
Go on, and strike your Thunder through our Ears,
Shoot all your Barbarous Terms of frightful Laws;
Paint to our Eyes, the Monstrous Shapes of Judgment
Look terrible as executing Angels,
And for your simple Sword, to plague us more,
Produce your whole Artillery of Justice,
I'll bear 'em all, and if I chance to faint,
Steal but a look from hence, and I am heal'd.

Gard.
Proceed in calling Witnesses.

Pemb.
Stay—give me first the Charge—Most Noble Lady,
'Tis the Queen's Pleasure, you shou'd be Arraign'd,
Not as vile Rogues and foulest Traytors are.
With one hand trembling, giving my Commission,
And with the other lifted up to Heav'n,
She cry'd alas! and then some Tears that fell
Stopp'd for a while the rest she had to say.
I give thee this not to be Slave to Statutes,
But curb the rigid Law; be merciful,
Let Royal Pity Seal thy tender Breast,
And if thou weep'st, say 'twas thy Queen that taught thee.
The form of your Indictment you have heard,
I'll only then repeat the substance to you.

Gard.
Most Worthy Gentlemen that are the Jury,
Cast your eyes on the Prisoners at the Bar,
And hear my Lord pronounce their mighty Charge.

Pemb.
Madam, and you, my Lord, are both Indicted
As false and Perjur'd Traytors to the Queen—
O that those Syllables
Were Poison to the Tongue from whence they flow'd,
E'er I had breath to utter such a sound.
That you, I say, contriv'd and levy'd War
Against our Soveraign Lady now the Queen,
And both together Trayterously depos'd,
Whilst, Madam, you Usurp'd the Royal Throne
Of England, and Proclaim'd your self its Queen,
Your True and Lawful Soveraign then alive,
And this I think's the Substance of your Charge;
To which you both must plead, and now be Try'd.

Gard.
What say you? are you Guilty, or not Guilty?

Gilf.
My Lord, to this Indictment at the Bar,
As to Deposing of the Queen, to kill her,
And our repeating Murders in her Kingdoms,
To the malitious words as they are laid,
We say we are not guilty; yet intend
No Plea in Bar of Justice; for the Angels
Are not more clear from the vile sin of Devils,
Than were our Souls from such a black Design.
But now, my Lord, to cut this tedious Loom,
That else wou'd be too long a winding up,
And make the cause but short;
To spare your florid Council in the Laws,
Their hoard of Eloquence for time of need,
To let 'em fall like Torrents on the Heads
Of sturdy Malefactors at the Bar;
As to th'Offence, the Treason of the mind,
We still persist, and plead our Innocence,
But to the Fact on which the Law takes hold,
We say w'are Guilty.

Pemb.
Ha! Gilford! Lady! think on what you say.

Gard.
You say y'are Guilty both?

Pemb.
For Heav'ns sake, pray, my Lord—

Ja., Gilf.
We are both Guilty.

Pemb.
Seas and vast Mountains fall upon my head
Rather than this be real. See, O Jane!
Thy Judge descending from his Throne of Justice,
Both Sword and Scales he throws beneath thy Feet,
His Life to boot to save thy drop of Blood.
Consider what thou say'st.

Gilf., Ja.
We both are Guilty.

Pemb.
O Gilford! say't not for a Kingdom.

Gard.
Record their Plea, and this their bold Confession,
They've own'd the Charge, and you must find 'em guilty.

Gilf.
Pronounce our Doom, why d'ye delay our Sentence?

Pemb.
O Pattern of the brightest Saint in Heav'n!
Recall that word, the Terror of which sound
Has struck thy Judges with a Mortal Wonder;
We had a thousand hopes to save thy life,
But now, alas! have none.

Gard.
Madam, and you, my Lord, are both convicted,
And you must now prepare to hear your Sentence;
If you have any thing to say against it,
Or why it should not pass, the Court will hear you.

Ja.
What can I say? to beg my Life I will not.

Gard.
Then hear the Court—My Lord, pronounce.

Ja.
A word, my Lords.
My Lord of Pembrook, you are our Relation,
The Queen owes to your Loyalty and Virtue
All that she has, the Banishment of Treason,
And this most welcome and applauded Justice.
You, my Lord Chancellor, are Wise and Just,
With Pity that adorns your Pious Function,
And you, my Lords the Judges, read in Statutes,
Learn'd in the Laws, and Customs of the Nation.
Behold this Noble Youth, undone by me,
This goodly Flower, nipp'd in its tender growth
By me a Poysonous Yew; a fatal Blast!
I do not sue to bar your welcome Justice,
To take my life out of the Scale, but his:
Commend him as an Object to the Queen,
As she wou'd spare a Child that's to be born,
Whose Parent had like me committed Treason,
The thoughtless Infant sleeping in the Womb.

Pemb.
Madam, we'll faithfully obey your Pleasure,
And hope the Queen as readily will grant.

Gilf.
Hear her not, awful Judges! noble Pembrook!
But let your Godlike Justice strike th'Offender;
By me she's here, by my Ambition err'd,
And when the Nation all combin'd to force her,
You all can witness how she bore th'Assault,
Stood like the Capitol, Besieg'd by Gauls,
Whilst the whole Roman Empire was at Stake;
And when nor Prayers, nor Tears, nor Threats cou'd move her,
Her Parents danger, nor my Love so priz'd;
Till she beheld a Weapon at this Breast,
She stood impregnable to all those Batteries,
And then at last did suffer to be dragg'd,
More like a Malefactor in a Sledge,
Than in a gawdy Chariot, to be Crown'd.
This say, and tell the Queen I was the Traytor.

Pemb.
Madam, there's nothing then remains,
But oh! the hardest Task for me to do
That ever Heart, not made of Steel, cou'd think,
Or ever Tongue relate, which is your Sentence,
And which the Law provides for such Offences.

Ja.
Look on me, Gilford, with those healing Eyes;
While w'are together, we'll devour our Woes,
And Miseries shall be the Banquet of
Our parting Lives, deck'd out with gaudy Love.
Pronounce it in the name of Heav'n, my Lord.

Pemb.
Rise then with me—O ghastly Audience, hear!
Start up like Spirits in Shrouds, or Statues mute,
Not the least Sence or Motion that you live,
Nor fatal sign of Pulse or Breath appear,
Nor Lips be curst to say Amen, but mine;
But with that awful silence, pale, and fix'd,
As you wou'd hearken to the World's great Doom.

Ja.
My Lord, you are too pitiful.

Pemb.
And when you see me ready to pronounce,
Wish that this Breath were Poyson to infect you,
These weeping Eyes were threatning Comets, rather
These Tears a Deluge that would drown the World.
But oh! I am condemn'd to speak; and when
Hereafter you'd relate a Tale that's sad,
Remember this unhappy Pair, remember
Poor Pembrook thus afflicted as he is
Pronouncing their unwilling Sentence, which
Is this, and this the Court awards.

Gilf.
What is it? quick, pronounce; see, we are guarded.
Thus hand in hand, while w'are intrench'd with Love,
Each gallant Courage is the others Armour.

Pemb.
You both are to be carry'd from this Bar
Unto the Prison, or Place from whence you came,
From whence y'are to be drawn upon two Hurdles
Unto the common place of Execution,
Where you, my Lord, must by the Neck be hang'd,
Cut down alive, and, in the sight of all,
Your Bowels pull'd out, and burnt before your Face,
Your Head first to be sever'd from your Body,
And Body then divided into Quarters,
Which are to be dispos'd of by the Queen—
But, Madam, out of Reverence to your Sex,
And for distinctions sake and Modesty,
Your Body must be compass'd round with Faggots,
And there be fasten'd to a Stake, and burnt:
And so, kind Heav'n have Mercy on your Souls.

[Scene draws: Exeunt omnes preter Jane, Gilford, and Guards.
Ja.
Come to the faithful Partner of thy Bed,
To all thy Wishes and thy Sorrows wed.
Thou Joy! thou Pain! thou Comfort! and thou Grief!
Fear of my Heart! and Pleasure of my Life!
How long shall we be tost by ev'ry Breath,
From Courts to Prisons, and from Prisons to Death!

Gilf.
Where must these Halberts lead us? to the Tower?
Our Dungeon now that was our Nuptial Bower.
So fell the Angels that did so aspire,
As I am punish'd for so rash desire,
To think there so much happiness cou'd be
On Earth, to be possess'd of Crowns, and Thee.

Ja.
Sweet Harmony of Life, just Musick flows
From Souls, and strings, by stops, that interpose;
Always intranc'd, is never to be blest,
Hunger delights, but Surfeits spoil the Taste.
Love were not Love, nor wou'd yon Heav'n be dear,
If ever, we enjoy'd such Raptures here.

Gilf.
Sure never Pair were born by Fate so soon
To kiss the Sun, then driv'n so quickly down,
Shot like a pond'rous Weight, that from the Sky
With greater force does to the Center fly.
Marry'd and Crown'd, injoy'd the Nuptial Bed,
Convicted, and to Execution led;
King, Queen, and nothing; all before the Sun
Had twenty of its daily Courses run.

Ja.
Behold us here, thus tost, thus driv'n, thus hurl'd,
Gilford and I be warnings to the World;
For popular Applause, and false Renown
Make but a barren Title to a Crown.
A rash Usurper with no Right but these
Rides like a Ship unballast on the Seas;
Flatter'd with gentle Winds, does proudly Sail;
But when the Billows rage, and Storms prevail,
Her glorious Bulk too empty for its height,
The Sea and dreadful Ruin swallow straight.

[Exeunt Omnes.