University of Virginia Library

SCEN. VI.

Enter, Princess, Mrs. Stanly, Charlot.
Prin.
When I am dead, let noble Richmond know,
That dying I did court the Tyrant's Blow:
To keep my Faith, my Person is destroy'd;
I by a Grave the Tyrant's Bed avoid.

Charlot.
It doubly would to us your Death transfer,
If I should tell, and he this message hear:
Madam, to me it were a happier Doom,
If I might kindly perish in your Room.

Prin.
To me Death's Face more dreadful did appear
Far off, then now, when it approcheth near.
Death is a debt, which all to Nature pay;
They clear it best, who dye the noblest way.

Mrs. Stanly.
Heaven has design'd you for a Publick Good;
Your Greatness yet lyes folded in the bud:
No Tyrant's hand shall crop it whilst it grows;
You shall ripe Glory at the full disclose.

Prin.
Your Kindness now does sound like flattery;
Truth only should be spoke to those that dye.
You need not cast these mists before my eyes;
I can my Danger see without surprise.
I only grieve, that I must leave behind
A Parent grown by too much love unkind.
A Mothers Tenderness makes our contest;
She loves my Safety, I my Honour best.