University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

Scene, The Tower.
Enter Pembroke and Gardiner.
Gar.
Nay, by the Rood, my Lord, you were to blame
To let a Hair-brain'd Passion be your Guide,
And hurry you into such mad Extreams.
Marry! you might have made much worthy Profit,
By patient hearing; the unthinking Lord,
Had brought forth ev'ry Secret of his Soul.
Then when you were the Master of his Bosom,
That were the Time to use him with Contempt,
And turn his Friendship back upon his Hands.

Pem.
Thou talk'st as if a Madman cou'd be wise.
Oh! Winchester, thy hoary frozen Age
Can never guess my Pain; can never know
The burning Transports of untam'd Desire.
I tell thee, Rev'rend Lord, to that one Bliss,
To the Enjoyment of that lovely Maid,
As to their Center, I had drawn each Hope,
And ev'ry Wish my furious Soul could form;
Still with Regard to that my Brain forethought,
And fashion'd ev'ry Action of my Life.
Then to be rob'd at once, and unsuspecting,
Be dash'd in all the Height of Expectation,
It was not to be born.

Gar.
Have you not heard of what has happen'd since?

Pem.
I have not had a Minutes Peace of Mind,
A Moments Pause, to rest from Rage, or think.

Gar.
Learn it from me then: but or e'er I speak,
I warn you to be Master of your self.
Tho', as you know they have confin'd me long,
Gra'mercy to their Goodness, Pris'ner here;
Yet as I am allow'd to walk at large
Within the Tower, and hold free Speech with any;
I have not dream't away my thoughtless Hours,
Without good Heed to these our righteous Rulers.
To prove this true, this Morn a trusty Spy,
Has brought me Word that yester Evening late,
In Spite of all the Grief for Edward's Death,
Your Friends were marry'd.

Pem.
Marry'd! Who?—Damnation!

Gar.
Lord Guilford Dudley, and the Lady Jane.

Pem.
Curse on my Stars!

Gar.
Nay, in the Name of Grace,
Restrain this sinful Passion; all's not lost
In this one single Woman.

Pem.
I have lost
More than the Female World can give me back.
I had beheld, ev'n her whole Sex unmov'd,
Look'd o'er 'em like a Bed of gaudy Flowers,
That lift their painted Heads and live a Day,
Then shed their trifling Glories unregarded.
My Heart disdain'd their Beauties, till she came,
With ev'ry Grace that Nature's Hand cou'd give,
And with a Mind so great, it spoke its Essence
Immortal and Divine.

Gar.
She was a Wonder,
Detraction must allow that.

Pem.
The Virtues came,
Sorted in gentle Fellowship to crown her,
As if they meant to mend each others Work.
Candour with Goodness, Fortitude with Sweetness,
Strict Piety and Love of Truth, with Learning,
More than the Schools of Athens ever knew,
Or her own Plato taught. A Wonder! Winchester!
Thou know'st not what she was, nor can I speak her,
More than to say, she was that only Blessing
My Soul was set upon, and I have lost her.

Gar.
Your State is not so bad as you wou'd make it;
Nor need you thus abandon ev'ry Hope.

Pem.
Ha! wo't thou save me, snatch me from Despair,
And bid me live again?

Gar.
She may be yours.
Suppose her Husband die.

Pem.
O vain vain Hope!

Gar.
Marry, I do not hold that Hope so vain.
These Gospellers have had their golden Days,
And lorded it at Will; with proud Despight,
Have trodden down our Holy Roman Faith,
Ransack'd her Shrines, and driv'n her Saints to Exile.
But if my Divination fail me not,
Their haughty Hearts shall be abas'd e'er long,
And feel the Vengeance of our Mary's Reign.

Pem.
And woud'st thou have my fierce Impatience stay
Bid me lye bound upon a Rack, and wait
For distant Joys, whole Ages yet behind?
Can Love attend on Politicians Schemes,
Expect the slow Events of cautious Counsels,
Cold unresolving Heads and creeping Time

Gar.
To Day, or I am ill inform'd, Northumberland,
With easy Suffolk, Guilford, and the rest,
Meet here in Council on some deep Design,
Some traiterous Contrivance, to protect
Their upstart Faith from near approaching Ruin.
But there are Punishments—Halters and Axes
For Traitors, and consuming Flames for Hereticks.
The happy Bridegroom may be yet cut short,
Ev'n in his highest Hope—but go not you,
Howe'er the fawning Sire, old Dudley, court you.
No, by the Holy Rood I charge you mix not
With their pernicious Counsels.—Mischief waits 'em,
Sure, certain, unavoidable Destruction.

Pem.
Ha! join with them! the cursed Dudley's Race!
Who, while they held me in their Arms, betray'd me,
Scorn'd me for not suspecting they were Villains,
And made a Mock'ry of my easy Friendship.
No, when I do, Dishonour be my Portion,
And swift Perdition catch me,—join with them!

Gar.
I wou'd not have you—hie you to the City,
And join with those who love our antient Faith.
Gather your Friends about you, and be ready
To assert our zealous Mary's Royal Tide.
And doubt not but her grateful Hand shall give you
To see your Soul's Desire upon your Enemies.
The Church shall pour her ample Treasures forth too,
And pay you with ten thousand Years of Pardon.

Pem.
No, keep your Blessings back, and give me Vengeance;
Give me to tell that soft Deceiver, Guilford,
Thus Traytor hast thou done, thus hast thou wrong'd me,
And thus thy Treason finds a just Reward.

Gar.
But soft! no more! the Lords o'th'Council come.
Ha! by the Mass! the Bride and Bridegroom too!
Retire with me, my Lord, we must not meet 'em.

Pem.
'Tis they themselves, the cursed happy Pair!
Hast, Winchester, hast! let us fly for ever,
And drive her from my very Thoughts if possible.
Oh! Love what have I lost!—Oh! Reverend Lord;
Pity this fond, this foolish Weakness in me.
Methinks, I go like our first wretched Father,
When from his blissful Garden he was driven.
Like me he went despairing, and like me,
Thus at the Gate stopt short for one last View.
Then with the chearless Partner of his Woe,
He turn'd him to the World that lay below.
There for his Eden's happy Plains beheld,
A Barren, wild, uncomfortable Field.
He saw 'twas vain the Ruin to deplore,
He try'd to give the sad Remembrance o'er,
The sad Remembrance still return'd again,
And his lost Paradise renew'd his Pain.

[Exeunt Pembrook and Gardiner.
Enter Lord Guilford, and Lady Jane
Guil.
What shall I say to thee? What Pow'r Divine,
Will teach my Tongue to tell thee what I feel?
To pour the Transports of my Bosom forth,
And make thee Partner of the Joy dwells there?
For thou art comfortless, full of Affliction,
Heavy of Heart as the forsaken Widow,
And desolate as Orphans. Oh my fair one!
Thy Edward shines amongst the brightest Stars,
And yet thy Sorrows seek him in the Grave.

L. J.
Alas, my dearest Lord! a thousand Griefs
Beset my anxious Heart, and yet as if
The Burthen were too little, I have added
The Weight of all thy Cares. And like the Miser,
Increase of Wealth has made me but more wretched
The Morning Light seems not to rise as usual,
It dawns not to me, like my Virgin Days,
But brings new Thoughts and other Fears upon me;
I tremble, and my anxious Heart is pain'd,
Least ought but Good should happen to my Guilford.

Guil.
Nothing but Good can happen to thy Guilford,
While thou art by his Side, his better Angel,
His Blessing and his Guard.

L. J.
Why came we hither?
Why was I drawn to this unlucky Place,
This Tower, so often stain'd with Royal Blood?
Where the fourth Edward's helpless Sons were murder'd,
And pious Henry fell by Ruthless Gloster.
Is this the Place allotted for rejoicing,
The Bower adorn'd to keep our Nuptial Feast in?
Methinks Suspicion and Distrust dwell here,
Staring with meager Forms thro' grated Windows.
Death lurks within, and unrelenting Punishment.
Without grim Danger, Fear, and fiercest Power,
Sit on the rude old Tow'rs and Gothick Battlements:
While Horror overlooks the dreadful Wall,
And frowns on all around.

Guil.
In Safety here,
The Lords o'th'Council have this Morn decreed,
To meet and with united Care support
The feeble tottering State. To thee, my Princess,
Those Royal Veins are rich in Henry's Blood,
With one Consent the noblest Heads are bow'd;
From thee they ask a Sanction to their Counsels,
And from thy healing Hand expect a Cure
For England's Loss in Edward.

L. J.
How! from me!
Alas! my Lord!—but sure thou mean'st to mock me.

Guil.
No, by the Love my faithful Heart is full of!
But see, thy Mother, gracious Suffolk comes,
To intercept my Story. She shall tell thee,
For in her Look I read the lab'ring Thought,
What vast Event thy Fate is now disclosing.

Enter the Dutchess of Suffolk.
Dutc. Suff.
No more complain, indulge thy Tears no more.
Thy pious Grief has giv'n the Grave its Due:
Let thy Heart kindle with the highest Hopes,
Expand thy Bosom, let thy Soul inlarg'd,
Make Room to entertain the coming Glory,
For Majesty and Purple Greatness court thee,
Homage and low Subjection wait: A Crown,
That makes the Princes of the Earth like Gods,
A Crown, my Daughter, England's Crown attends,
To bind thy Brows with its Imperial Wreath.

L. J.
Amazement chills my Veins! what says my Mother?

Dutc. Suff.
'Tis Heav'ns Decree; for our expiring Edward
When now just strugling to his native Skies,
Ev'n on the Verge of Heav'n, in Sight of Angels,
That hover'd round to waft him to the Stars,
Ev'n then declar'd my Jane his Successor.

L. J.
Could Edward do this? could the dying Saint,
Bequeath his Crown to me? Oh fatal Bounty
To me! but 'tis impossible! we dream.
A thousand and a thousand Bars oppose me,
Rise in my Way and intercept my Passage.
Ev'n you, my gracious Mother, what must you be,
E'er I can be a Queen?

Dutc. Suff.
That and that only;
Thy Mother, fonder of that tender Name
Than all the proud Additions Pow'r can give.
Yes, I will give up all my Share of Greatness,
And live in low Obscurity forever,
To see thee rais'd thou Darling of my Heart,
And fix'd upon a Throne. But see! thy Father,
Northumberland, with all the Council come,
To pay their vow'd Allegiance at thy Feet,
To kneel and call thee Queen.

L. J.
Support me Guilford,
Give me thy Aid, stay thou my fainting Soul,
And help me to repress this growing Danger.

Enter Suffolk, Northumberland, Lords and others of the Privy-Council.
North.
Hail! sacred Princess! sprung from antient Kings;
Our England's dearest Hope, undoubted Off-spring
Of York and Lancaster's united Line.
By whose bright Zeal, by whose victorious Faith,
Guarded and fenc'd around our pure Religion,
That Lamp of Truth which shines upon our Altars,
Shall lift its golden Head and flourish long.
Beneath whose awful Rule and righteous Scepter,
The plenteous Years shall roll in long Succession:
Law shall prevail and antient Right take Place,
Fair Liberty shall lift her chearful Head,
Fearless of Tyranny and proud Oppression.
No sad complaining in our Streets shall cry,
But Justice shall be exercis'd in Mercy.
Hail! Royal Jane behold we bend our Knees,
[they kneel
The Pledge of Homage and thy Land's Obedience,
With humblest Duty thus we kneel, and own thee
Our Liege, our Soveraign Lady, and our Queen.

L. J.
Oh! rise!
Father rise!
[to Suff.
And you my Fatherhood
[to North.
Rise all! nor cover me with this Confusion.
[they rise.
What means this Mock, this masquing Shew of Greatness?
Why do you hang these Pageant Glories on me,
And dress me up in Honours not my own?

North.
The Daughters of our late great Master Henry,
Stand both by Law excluded from Succession.
To make all firm,
And fix a Pow'r unquestion'd in your Hand,
Edward by Will bequeath'd his Crown to you:
And the concurring Lords in Council met,
Have ratified the Gift.

L. J.
Are Crowns and Empire,
The Government and Safety of Mankind.
Trifles of such light Moment, to be left,
Like some rich Toy, a Ring or fancy'd Gem,
The Pledge of parting Friends? can Kings do thus,
And give away a People for a Legacy?

North.
Forgive me, Princely Lady, if my Wonder,
Seizes each Sense, each Faculty of Mind.
To see the utmost Wish the Great can form,
A Crown thus coldly met: A Crown, which slighted,
And left in Scorn by you, shall soon be sought
And find a joyful Wearer; One perhaps,
Of Blood unkindred to your Royal House,
And fix its Glories in another Line.

L. J.
Where art thou now, thou Partner of my Cares?
[turning to Guilford
Come to my Aid, and help to bear this Burthen,
Oh! save me from this Sorrow, this Misfortune,
Which in the Shape of gorgeous Greatness comes,
To crown and make a Wretch of me for ever.

Guil.
Thou weep'st, my Queen, and hang'st thy drooping
Like nodding Poppies heavy with the Rain,
That bow their weary Necks and bend to Earth.
See, by thy Side, thy faithful Guilford stands,
Prepar'd to keep Distress and Danger from thee,
To wear thy sacred Cause upon his Sword,
And war against the World in thy Defence.

North.
Oh! stay this inauspicious Stream of Tears
And chear your People with one gracious Smile.
Nor comes your Fate in such a dreadful Form,
To bid you shun it. Turn those sacred Eyes
On the bright Prospect Empire spreads before you.
Methinks I see you seated on the Throne;
Beneath your Feet, the Kingdoms great Degrees
In bright Confusion shine, Mitres and Coronets,
The various Ermin, and the glowing Purple:
Assembled Senates wait with awful Dread
To firm your high Commands, and make 'em Fate.

L. Jane.
You turn to view the painted side of Royalty,
And cover all the Cares that lurk beneath.
Is it to be a Queen, to sit aloft
In solemn, dull, uncomfortable State,
The flatter'd Idol of a Servile Court?
Is it to draw a pompous Train along,
A Pageant, for the wondring Crowd to gaze at?
Is it in Wantonness of Pow'r, to Reign,
And make the World subservient to my Pleasure?
Is it not rather to be Greatly Wretched,
To Watch, to Toil, to take a sacred Charge,
To bend each Day before high Heaven, and own,
This People hast thou trusted to my Hand,
And at my Hand, I know, thou shalt require 'em?
Alas! Northumberland!—my Father!—Is it not
To live a Life of Care; and when I die,
Have more to answer for before my Judge,
Than any of my Subjects?

Suff.
Ev'ry State
Allotted to the Race of Man below,
Is in proportion, doom'd to tast some Sorrow.
Nor is the golden Wreath on a King's Brow
Exempt from Care; and yet, Who wou'd not bear it?
Think on the Monarchs of our Royal Race,
They liv'd not for Themselves: How many Blessings,
How many lifted Hands, shall pay thy Toil,
If for thy Peoples Good thou happ'ly borrow
Some portion from the Hours of Rest, and Wake
To give the World Repose.

Suff.
Behold, we stand upon the Brink of Ruin,
And only Thou canst save us. Persecution,
That Fiend of Rome and Hell, prepares her Tortures;
See where she comes in Mary's Priestly Train.
Still wo't thou doubt? 'till thou behold her stalk
Red with the Blood of Martyrs, and Wide-wasting
O'er England's Bosome? All the mourning Year
Our Towns shall glow with unextinguish'd Fires;
Our Youth on Racks shall stretch their Crackling Bones;
Our Babes shall sprawl on Consecrated Spears;
Matrons and Husbands, with their New-born Infants,
Shall burn promiscuous; a continu'd Peal
Of Lamentations, Groans and Shrieks shall sound
Through all our purple Ways.

Guil.
Amidst that Ruin,
Think thou behold'st thy Guilford's Head laid Low,
Bloody and Pale—

L. Jane.
Oh! spare the Dreadful Image!

Guil.
Oh! wou'd the Misery be bounded there,
My Life were little, but the Rage of Rome
Demands whole Hecatombs, a Land of Victims.
With Superstition comes that other Fiend,
That Bane of Peace, of Arts and Virtue, Tyranny;
That Foe to Justice, Scorner of all Law;
That Beast, which thinks Mankind were born for One,
And made by Heav'n to be a Monster's Prey;
That heaviest Curse of groaning Nations, Tyranny.
Mary shall, by her Kindred Spain, be taught
To bend our Necks beneath a Brazen Yoke,
And Rule o'er Wretches with an Iron Sceptre.

L. Jane.
Avert that Judgment, Heaven!
Whate'er thy Providence allots for me,
In Mercy spare my Country.

Guil.
Oh, my Queen!
Does not thy Great, thy Generous Heart Relent,
To think this Land, for Liberty so fam'd,
Shall have her Tow'ry Front at once laid low,
And robb'd of all it's Glory? Oh! my Country!
Oh! Fairest Albion, Empress of the Deep,
How have thy Noblest Sons with stubborn Valour
Stood to the last, dy'd many a Field in Blood,
In dear Defence of Birth-right and their Laws!
And shall those Hands, which fought the Cause of Freedom,
Be manacl'd in base unworthy Bonds?
Be tamely yielded up? the Spoil, the Slaves
Of Hair-brain'd Zeal, and Cruel Coward Priests?

L. Jane.
Yes, my lov'd Lord, my Soul is mov'd, like Thine,
At ev'ry Danger which Invades our England;
My cold Heart kindles at the great Occasion,
And could be more than Man, in her Defence.
But where is my Commission to Redress?
Or whence my Pow'r to Save? Can Edward's Will,
Or Twenty met in Council, make a Queen?
Can you, my Lords, give me the Pow'r to canvass
A doubtful Title with King Henry's Daughters?
Where are the Rev'rend Sages of the Law,
To guide me with their Wisdoms, and point out
The Paths which Right and Justice bid me tread?

North.
The Judges all attend, and will at leisure
Resolve you ev'ry Scruple.

L. Jane.
They expound,
But where are those, my Lord, who make the Law?
Where are the Ancient Honours of the Realm,
The Nobles, with the Miter'd Fathers join'd?
The Wealthy Commons solemnly Assembled?
Where is that Voice of a Consenting People,
To pledge the Universal Faith with mine,
And call me justly Queen?

North.
Nor shall that long
Be wanting to your Wish: The Lords and Commons
Shall, at your Royal Bidding, soon Assemble,
And with united Homage own your Title.
Delay not then to meet the General Wish,
But be our Queen; be England's better Angel.
Nor let mistaken Piety betray you
To join with Cruel Mary in our Ruin:
Her bloody Faith commands her to Destroy,
And yours forbids to Save.

Guil.
Our Foes, already
High in their Hopes, devote us all to Death:
The Dronish Monks, the Scorn and Shame of Manhood,
Rouze and prepare once more to take Possession,
To nestle in their ancient Hives again;
Again they furbish up their Holy Trumpery,
Relicks, and Wooden Wonder-working Saints,
Whole Loads of Lumber and Religious Rubbish,
In high Procession mean to bring 'em back,
And place the Puppets in their Shrines again:
While those of keener Malice, Savage Bonner,
And Deep-designing Gard'ner, dream of Vengeance;
Devour the Blood of Innocents, in Hope,
Like Vultures, snuff the Slaughter in the Wind,
And speed their Flight to Havock and the Prey.
Haste then and save us, while 'tis giv'n to save
Your Country, your Religion.

North.
Save your Friends!

Suff.
Your Father!

D. Suff.
Mother!

Guil.
Husband!

L. Jane.
Take me, Crown me;
Invest me with this Royal Wretchedness;
Let me not know one happy Minute more,
Let all my sleepless Nights be spent in Care,
My Days be vex'd with Tumults and Alarms,
If only I can save you; if my Fate
Has mark'd me out to be the Publick Victim,
I take the Lot with Joy. Yes, I will Die
For that Eternal Truth my Faith is fix'd on,
And that dear Native Land which gave me Birth.

Guil.
Wake ev'ry Tuneful Instrument to tell it,
And let the Trumpets sprightly Note proclaim
My Jane is England's Queen! Let the loud Cannon
In peals of Thunder speak it to Augusta.
Imperial Thames, catch thou the sacred Sound,
And roll it to the subject Ocean down:
Tell the old Deep, and all thy Brother-Floods,
My Jane is Empress of the Watry World!
Now with glad Fires our bloodless Streets shall shine;
With Cryes of Joy our chearful Ways shall ring;
Thy Name shall eccho through the rescu'd Isle,
And reach Applauding Heaven!

L. Jane.
Oh, Guilford! What do we give up for Glory!
For Glory! That's a Toy I wou'd not purchase,
An idle, empty Bubble. But for England!
What must we lose for That! Since then my Fate
Has forc'd this hard Exchange upon my Will,
Let gracious Heav'n allow me one Request:
For that blest Peace in which I once did dwell,
For Books, Retirement, and my studious Cell,
For all those Joys my happier Days did prove,
For Plato and his Academick Grove;
All that I ask, is, Tho' my Fortune frown,
And bury me beneath this fatal Crown;
Let that one Good be added to my Doom,
To save this Land from Tyranny and Rome.

[Exeunt.