University of Virginia Library

ACT IV.

SCENE I.

Scene Continues.
Enter Pembroke and Gardiner.
Gardiner.
In an unlucky and accursed Hour
Set forth that Traytor Duke, that Proud Northumberland,
To draw his Sword upon the side of Heresy,
And War against our Mary's Royal Right:
Ill Fortune fly before and pave his Way
With Disappointment, Mischief and Defeat:
And thou, O, holy Becket, the Protector,
The Champion, and the Martyr of our Church,
Appear, and once more own the Cause of Rome;
Beat down his Launce, break thou his Sword in Battle,
And cover foul Rebellion with Confusion.

Pem.
I saw him marching at his Army's Head;
I mark'd him issuing through the City Gate
In Harness, all appointed as he pass'd;
And (for he wore his Beaver up) could read
Upon his Visage Horror and Dismay:
No Voice of friendly Salutation chear'd him,
None wish'd his Arms might thrive, or bad God-speed him;
But through a staring Gastly-looking Croud,
Unhail'd, unbless'd, with heavy Heart he went:
As if his Traytor Father's haggard Ghost,
And Somerset fresh bleeding from the Ax,
On either hand had usher'd him to Ruin.

Gar.
Nor shall the holy Vengeance loiter long.
At Framingham in Suffolk lies the Queen,
Mary our Pious Mistress; where each Day
The Nobles of the Land, and swarming Populace
Gather, and List beneath her Royal Ensigns.
The Fleet Commanded by Sir Thomas Jerningham,
Set out in Warlike manner to oppose her,
With one Consent have join'd to own her Cause:
The Valiant Sussex, and Sir Edward Hastings,
With many more of Note, are up in Arms,
And all Declare for Her.

Pem.
The Citizens,
Who held the Noble Somerset right dear,
Hate this aspiring Dudley and his Race,
And wou'd, upon the Instant, join t'oppose him;
Could we but draw some of the Lords o'th'Council
T'appear among 'em, own the same Design,
And bring the Rev'rend Sanction of Authority
To lead 'em into Action. For that Purpose,
To thee, as to an Oracle, I come
To learn what fit Expedient may be found,
To win the wary Council to our side.
Say thou, whose Head is grown thus Silver White,
In Arts of Government, and Turns of State,
How we may blast our Enemies with Ruin,
And sink the curs'd Northumberland to Hell.

Gar.
In happy Time be your whole Wish accomplish'd.
Since the Proud Duke set out, I have had Conference,
As fit Occasion serv'd, with divers of 'em,
The Earl of Arundel, Mason, and Cheyney,
And find 'em all dispos'd as we could ask.
By Holy Mary, if I count aright,
To Day, the better Part shall leave this Place,
And meet at Baynard's-Castle in the City;
There own our Sovereign's Title, and defy
Jane, and her Gospel-Crew. But hye you hence!
This Place is still within our Foes Command,
Their Puppet-Queen reigns here.

Enter an Officer with a Guard.
Off.
Seize on 'em both.
[Guard seize Pembroke and Gardiner.
My Lord, you are a Prisoner to the State.

Pem.
Ha! By whose Order?

Off.
By the Queen's Command,
Sign'd and Deliver'd by Lord Guilford Dudley.

Pem.
Curse on his Traytor's Heart!

Gar.
Rest you Contented:
You have loiter'd here too long; but use your Patience,
These Bonds shall not be lasting.

Off.
As for you, Sir,
[To Gardiner.
'Tis the Queen's Pleasure, you be close Confin'd:
You've us'd that fair Permission was allow'd you,
To walk at large within the Tower, unworthily.
You're noted for an Over-busy Medler,
A Secret Practicer against the State;
For which, henceforth, your Limits shall be straiter.
Hence! to his Chamber.

Gar.
Farewel, gentle Pembroke,
I trust, that we shall meet on blither Terms;
Till then, amongst my Beads, I will remember you,
And give you to the Keeping of the Saints.

[Exeunt part of the Guard with Gardiner.
Pem.
Now! whither must I go?

Off.
This way, my Lord.

[Going off.
Enter Guilford.
Guil.
Hold, Captain! e're you go, I have a Word or two
For this your Noble Pris'ner.

Off.
At your Pleasure:
I know my Duty, and attend your Lordship.

[The Officer and Guard retire to the farther part of the Stage.
Guil.
Is all the Gentleness that was betwixt us
So lost, so swept away from thy Remembrance,
Thou canst not look upon me?

Pem.
Ha! not look!
What Terrors are there in the Dudley's Race,
That Pembroke dares not look upon and scorn?
And yet, 'tis true, I wou'd not look upon thee:
Our Eyes avoid to look on what we hate,
As well as what we fear.

Guil.
You hate me, then?

Pem.
I do; and wish Perdition may o'ertake
Thy Father, thy false Self, and thy whole Name.

Guil.
And yet, as sure as Rage disturbs thy Reason,
And masters all the noble Nature in thee;
As sure as thou hast Wrong'd me, I am come
On tenderness of Friendship to Preserve thee;
To plant ev'n all the Pow'r I have before thee,
And fence thee from Destruction, with my Life.

Pem.
Friendship from thee! But, my just Soul disdains thee:
Hence! take the prostituted Bawble back,
Hang it to grace some slavering Ideot's Neck,
For none but Fools will prize the Tinsel Toy:
But thou art come, perhaps, to vaunt thy Greatness,
And set thy Purple Pomp to view before me;
To let me know that Guilford is a King,
That he can speak the Word, and give me Freedom.
Oh! Short-liv'd Pageant! Had'st thou all the Pow'r
Which thy vain Soul would grasp at, I would Die,
Rot in a Dungeon, e're receive a Grace,
The least, the meanest Courtesy from Thee.

Guil.
Oh! Pembroke! But I have not time to Talk,
For Danger presses; Danger unforeseen,
And secret as the Shaft that flies by Night,
Is aiming at thy Life. Captain, a Word!
[To the Officer.
I take your Pris'ner to my proper Charge;
Draw of your Guard, and leave his Sword with me.
[The Officer Delivers the Sword to Lord Guilford, and goes out with the Guard.]
[L. Guil. offering the Sword to Pembroke.]
Receive this Gift, ev'n from a Rival's Hand;
And if thy Rage will suffer thee to hear
The Counsel of a Man once call'd thy Friend,
Flie from this fatal Place, and seek thy Safety.

Pem.
How now! What Shew, What Mockery is this?
Is it in Sport you use me thus? What means
This swift fantastick changing of the Scene?

Guil.
Oh! take thy Sword; and let thy valiant Hand
Be ready arm'd to Guard thy Noble Life:
The Time, the Danger, and thy wild Impatience,
Forbid me all to enter into Speech with thee,
Or I cou'd tell thee—

Pem.
No, it needs not, Traytor!
For all thy poor, thy little Arts are known.
Thou fear'st my Vengeance, and art come to Fawn,
To make a Merit of that proffer'd Freedom,
Which, in despite of thee, a Day shall give me:
Nor can my Fate depend on thee, false Guilford;
For know, to thy Confusion, e're the Sun
Twice gild the East, our Royal Mary comes
To End thy Pageant Reign, and set me Free.

Guil.
Ungrateful and Unjust! Hast thou then known me
So little, to accuse my Heart of Fear?
Hast thou forgotten Musselborough's Field?
Did I then Fear, when by thy Side I fought,
And dy'd my Maiden Sword in Scottish Blood?
But this is Madness all.

Pem.
Give me my Sword.
[Taking his Sword.
Perhaps indeed, I wrong thee. Thou hast thought;
And, conscious of the Injury thou' hast done me,
Art come to proffer me a Soldier's Justice,
And meet my Arm in single Opposition:
Lead then, and let me Follow to the Field.

Guil.
Yes, Pembroke, thou shalt satisfy thy Vengeance,
And write thy bloody Purpose on my Bosom.
But let Death wait to Day. By our past Friendship,
In Honour's Name, by ev'ry sacred Tie,
I beg thee ask no more, but haste from hence.

Pem.
What mystick Meaning lurks beneath thy Words?
What Fear is this, which thou would'st awe my Soul with?
Is there a Danger Pembroke dares not meet?

Guil.
Oh! spare my Tongue a Tale of Guilt and Horror;
Trust me this once; believe me, when I tell thee
Thy Safety and thy Life is all I seek.
Away!

Pem.
By Heav'n! I wo'not stir a Step.
Curse on this shuffling, dark, ambiguous Phrase.
If thou wou'dst have me think thou mean'st me fairly,
Speak with that plainness Honesty delights in,
And let thy Double-Tongue for once be True.

Guil.
Forgive me, Filial Piety and Nature,
If, thus compell'd, I break your sacred Laws,
Reveal my Father's Crime, and blot with Infamy
The Hoary Head of him who gave me Being,
To save the Man whom my Soul loves, from Death.
[Giving a Paper.]
Read there the fatal Purpose of thy Foe,
A Thought which Wounds my Soul with Shame and Horror,
Somewhat that Darkness shou'd have hid for Ever,
But that thy Life—Say, hast thou seen that Character?

Pem.
I know it well; the Hand of Proud Northumberland,
Directed to his Minions Gates and Palmer.
What's this?
[Reads.

Remember with your closest Care, to observe those whom I nam'd
to you at parting; especially keep your Eye upon the Earl of
Pembroke; as his Power and Interest are most Considerable,
so his Opposition will be most Fatal to us. Remember the
Resolution was taken, if you should find him inclin'd to our
Enemies. The Forms of Justice are tedious, and Delays are
Dangerous. If he falters, lose not the sight of him 'till your
Daggers have reach'd his Heart.

My Heart! Oh! Murd'rous Villain!

Guil.
Since he parted,
Thy Ways have all been Watch'd, thy Steps been Mark'd;
Thy Secret Treaties with the Malecontents
That Harbour in the City; thy Conferring
With Gard'ner here in the Tower, all is known;
And, in pursuance of that Bloody Mandate,
A Set of Chosen Ruffians wait to End thee.
There was but one way left me to preserve thee:
I took it; and this Morning sent my Warrant
To seize upon thy Person—But be gone!

Pem.
'Tis so—'tis Truth—I see his Honest Heart—

Guil.
I have a Friend of well try'd Faith and Courage,
Who with a fit Disguise, and Arms conceal'd,
Attends without, to guide thee hence in Safety.

Pem.
What is Northumberland? and what art Thou?

Guil.
Waste not the Time. Away!

Pem.
Here let me fix
And gaze with Everlasting Wonder on thee.
What is there Good or Excellent in Man,
That is not found in thee? Thy Virtues flash,
They break at once on my astonish'd Soul;
As if the Curtains of the Dark were drawn,
To let in Day at Midnight.

Guil.
Think me True;
And tho' Ill-fortune cross'd upon our Friendship—

Pem.
Curse on our Fortune!—Think!—I know thee honest.

Guil.
For ever I cou'd hear thee—but thy Life—
Oh, Pembroke, linger not—

Pem.
And can I leave thee
E're I have clasp'd thee in my eager Arms,
And giv'n thee back my sad repenting Heart?
Believe me, Guilford, like the Patriarch's Dove,
[Embracing.
It wandr'd forth, but found no Resting-place
Till it came Home again to lodge with thee.

Guil.
What is there that my Soul can more desire,
Than these dear Marks of thy returning Friendship?
The Danger comes—If you stay longer here,
You Die, my Pembroke.

Pem.
Let me stay and Die;
For if I go, I go to work thy Ruin.
Thou know'st not what a Foe thou send'st me forth,
That I have sworn Destruction to thy Queen,
And pledg'd my Faith to Mary and her Cause:
My Honour is at stake.

Guil.
I know 'tis given:
But go—the stronger thy Engagement's there,
The more's thy Danger here. There is a Power
Who sits above the Stars, in him I Trust;
All that I have, his bounteous Hand bestow'd;
And he that gave it, can preserve it to me.
If his O'er-ruling Will ordains my Ruin,
What is there more, but to fall down before him,
And humbly yield Obedience!—Flie!—Be gone!

Pem.
Yes, I will go—For see! Behold who comes!
Oh, Guilford, hide me, shield me from her Sight;
Ev'ry mad Passion kindles up again,
Love, Rage, Despair—and yet I will be Master—
I will Remember Thee—Oh, my torn Heart!
I have a Thousand thousand Things to say,
But cannot, dare not stay to look on her.
Thus gloomy Ghosts, whene'er the breaking Morn
Gives notice of the chearful Sun's Return,
Fade at the Light, with Horror stand Opprest,
And shrink before the Purple-dawning East;
Swift with the fleeting Shades they wing their way,
And dread the Brightness of the Rising Day.

[Exeunt Guil. and Pem.
Enter Lady Jane, Reading.
L. Jane.
'Tis false! The thinking Soul is somewhat more
Than Symmetry of Atoms well dispos'd,
The Harmony of Matter. Farewel else
The Hope of all hereafter, that New Life,
That separate Intellect, which must survive,
When this fine Frame is moulder'd into Dust.

Enter Guilford.
Guil.
What read'st thou there, my Queen?

L. Jane.
'Tis Plato's Phædon,
Where Dying Socrates takes leave of Life,
With such an easy, careless, calm Indifference,
As if the Trifle were of no Account,
Mean in it self, and only to be worn
In honour of the Giver.

Guil.
Shall thy Soul
Still scorn the World, still flie the Joys that court
Thy blooming Beauty, and thy tender Youth?
Still shall she soar on Contemplation's Wing,
And mix with nothing meaner than the Stars;
As Heaven and Immortality alone
Were Objects worthy to employ her Faculties.

L. Jane.
Bate but thy Truth, what is there here below
Deserves the least Regard? Is it not time
To bid our Souls look out, explore hereafter,
And seek some better, sure-abiding Place;
When all around our gathering Foes come on,
To drive, to sweep us from this World at once?

Guil.
Does any Danger new—

L. Jane.
The faithless Councellors
Are fled from hence, to join the Princess Mary.
The servile Herd of Courtiers, who so late
In low Obeysance bent the Knee before me;
They, who with zealous Tongues, and Hands uplifted,
Besought me to Defend their Laws and Faith;
Vent their lewd Execrations on my Name,
Proclaim me Trait'ress now, and to the Scaffold
Doom my devoted Head.

Guil.
The Changling Villains
That pray for Slavery, fight for their Bonds,
And shun the Blessing, Liberty, like Ruin.
What art thou, Human Nature, to do thus?
Does Fear or Folly make thee, like the Indian,
Fall down before this dreadful Devil, Tyranny,
And Worship the Destroyer?
But wherefore do I loiter tamely here?
Give me my Arms: I will Preserve my Country,
Ev'n in her own despite: Some Friends I have
Who will or Die or Conquer in thy Cause,
Thine and Religion's, Thine and England's Cause.

L. Jane.
Art thou not all my Treasure, all my Guard?
And wo't thou take from me the only Joy,
The last Defence is left me here below?
Think not thy Arm can stem the driving Torrent,
Or save a People, who with blindfold Rage,
Urge their own Fate, and strive to be Undone.
Northumberland, thy Father, is in Arms;
And if it be in Valour to defend us,
His Sword, that long has known the way to Conquest,
Shall be our surest Safety.

Enter the Duke of Suffolk.
Suff.
Oh! my Children!

L. Jane.
Alas! What means my Father?

Suff.
Oh! my Son!
Thy Father, great Northumberland, on whom
Our dearest Hopes were built—

Guil.
Ha! What of him?

Suff.
Is Lost, Betray'd!
His Army, onward as he march'd, shrunk from him,
Moulder'd away, and melted from his side,
Like falling Hail thick strown upon the Ground,
Which, e're we can essay to count, is vanish'd:
With some few Followers he arriv'd at Cambridge;
But there, ev'n they forsook him; and himself
Was forc'd, with heavy Heart and watry Eye,
To cast his Cap up, with dissembled Chear,
And cry, God save Queen Mary. But alas!
Little avail'd the semblance of that Loyalty:
For soon thereafter, by the Earl of Arundel,
With Treason was he charg'd, and there Arrested;
And now he brings him Pris'ner up to London.

L. Jane.
—Then there's an end of Greatness the vain Dream
Of Empire and a Crown, that danc'd before me,
With all those unsubstantial, empty Forms,
Waiting in idle Mockery around us:
The gaudy Masque, tedious, and nothing meaning,
Is vanish'd all at once—Why, fare it well.

Guil.
And canst thou bear this sudden Turn of Fate
With such unshaken Temper?

L. Jane.
For my self,
If I cou'd form a Wish for Heav'n to grant,
It should have been to rid me of this Crown
And thou o'er-ruling, great, all-knowing Power!
Thou who discern'st our Thoughts, who see'st 'em rising,
And forming in the Soul, Oh judg me, Thou!
If e'er Ambition's guilty Fires have warm'd me,
If e'er my Heart inclin'd to Pride, to Power,
Or joy'd in being a Queen. I took the Scepter
To save this Land, thy People, and thy Altars:
And now behold I bend my grateful Knee,
[Kneeling.
In humble Adoration of that Mercy,
Which quits me of the vast unequal Task.

Enter the Dutchess of Suffolk.
Dss Suff.
Nay, keep that Posture still; and let us join,
Fix all our Knees by thine, lift up our Hands,
And seek for Help and Pity from above,
For Earth and faithless Man will give us none.

L. Jane.
What is the worst our cruel Fate ordains us?

Dss Suff.
Curs'd be my fatal Counsel, curs'd my Tongue,
That pleaded for thy Ruin, and persuaded
Thy guiltless Feet to tread the Paths of Greatness!
My Child!—I have undone thee!—

L. Jane.
Oh my Mother!
Shou'd I not bear a Portion in your Sorrows?

Dss Suff.
Alas! thou hast thy own, a double Portion.
Mary is come, and the revolting Londoners,
Who beat the Heavens with thy applauded Name,
Now croud to meet and hail her as their Queen.
Sussex is enter'd here, commands the Tower,
Has plac'd his Guards around: And this sad Place,
So late thy Palace, is become our Prison.
I saw him bend his Knee to cruel Gardiner,
Who freed from his Confinement, ran to meet him,
Embrac'd and blest him with a Hand of Blood.
Each hast'ning moment I expect 'em here,
To seize, and pass the Doom of Death upon us.

Guil.
Ha! seiz'd! shalt thou be seiz'd! and shall I stand,
And camely see thee born away to Death?
Then blasted be my Coward Name for ever:
No, I will set my self to guard this Spot,
To which our narrow Empire now is shrunk;
Here will I grow the Bulwark of my Queen;
Nor shall the Hand of Violence profane thee,
Until my Breast have born a thousand Wounds;
Till this torn mangled Body sink at once
A Heap of Purple Ruin at thy Feet.

L. Jane.
And could thy rash distracted Rage do thus?
Draw thy vain Sword against an armed Multitude,
Only to have my poor Heart split with Horrour,
To see thee stab'd and butcher'd here before me.
Oh call thy better nobler Courage to thee,
And let us meet this adverse Fate with Patience!
Greet our insulting Foes with equal Tempers,
With even Brows, and Souls secure of Death.
Here stand unmov'd, as once the Roman Senate
Receiv'd fierce Brennus and the conquering Gauls,
Till ev'n the rude Barbarians stood amaz'd
At such superior Vertue. Be thy self,
For see the Trial comes!

Enter Sussex, Gardiner, Officers and Soldiers.
Suss.
Guards, execute your Orders; seize the Traitors:
Here my Commission ends. To you, my Lord,
[To Gardiner.
So our great Mistress, Royal Mary, bids,
I leave the full Disposal of these Pris'ners;
To your wise Care the pious Queen commends
Her Sacred Self, her Crown, and what's yet more,
The Holy Roman Church, for whose dear Safety,
She wills your utmost Diligence be shewn,
To bring Rebellion to the Bar of Justice.
Yet further, to proclaim how much she trusts
In Winchester's deep Thought, and well-try'd Faith,
The Seal attends to grace those Reverend Hands;
And when I next salute you, I must call you
Chief Minister and Chancellor of England.

Gar.
Unnumber'd Blessings fall upon her Head,
My Ever-gracious Lady! to remember
With such full Bounty her old humble Beadsman!
For these her Foes leave me to deal with them.

Suss.
The Queen is on her Entrance, and expects me:
My Lord farewel.

Gar.
Farewel, Right Noble Sussex.
Commend me to the Queen's Grace, say her Bidding
Shall be observ'd by her most lowly Creature.
[Exit Sussex.
Lieutenant of the Tower, take hence your Pris'ners,
Be it your Care to see 'em kept apart,
That they may hold no Commerce with each other.

L. Jane.
That Stroke was unexpected.

Guil.
Wo't thou part us?

Gar.
I hold no Speech with Hereticks and Traitors.
Lieutenant, see my Orders be obey'd.
[Exit Gardiner.

Guil.
Inhuman, monstrous, unexampled Cruelty!
Oh Tyrant! but the Task becomes thee well;
Thy savage Temper joys to do Death's Office;
To tear the Sacred Bands of Love asunder,
And part those Hands which Heav'n it self had join'd.

Dss Suff.
To let us waste the little Rest of Life
Together, had been merciful.

Suff.
Then it had not
Been done like Winchester.

Guil.
Thou stand'st unmov'd;
Calm Temper sits upon thy beauteous Brow;
Thy Eyes, that flow'd so fast for Edward's Loss,
Gaze unconcern'd upon the Ruin round thee;
As if thou hadst resolv'd to brave thy Fate,
And triumph in the midst of Desolation.
Ha! see it swells, the liquid Chrystal rises,
It starts in spight of thee,—but I will catch it;
Nor let the Earth be wet with Dew so rich.

L. Jane.
And dost thou think, my Guilford, I can see
My Father, Mother, and ev'n thee my Husband
Torn from my Side without a Pang of Sorrow?
How art thou thus unknowing in my Heart!
Words cannot tell thee what I feel. There is
An agonizing Softness busy here,
That tugs the Strings, that struggles to get loose,
And pour my Soul in Wailings out before thee.

Guil.
Give way, and let the gushing Torrent come:
Behold the Tears we bring to swell the Deluge,
Till the Flood rise upon the guilty World,
And make the Ruin common.

L. Jane.
Guilford, no:
The time for tender Thoughts and soft Endearments
Is fled away and gone; Joy has forsaken us;
Our Hearts have now another Part to play;
They must be steel'd with some uncommon Fortitude,
That fearless we may tread the Paths of Horrour;
And in despight of Fortune and our Foes,
Ev'n in the Hour of Death be more than Conquerors.

Guil.
Oh teach me! say, what Energy Divine
Inspires thy softer Sex and tender Years
With such unshaken Courage?

L. Jane.
Truth and Innocence:
A conscious Knowledg rooted in my Heart,
That to have sav'd my Country was my Duty
Yes, England, yes, my Country, I would save thee;
But Heav'n forbids, Heav'n disallows my Weakness,
And to some dear selected Hero's Hand
Reserves the Glory of thy great Deliverance.

Lieut.
My Lords, my Orders—

Guil.
See! we must—must part.

L. Jane.
Yet surely we shall meet again.

Guil.
Oh! Where?

L. Jane.
If not on Earth, among yon golden Stars.
Where other Suns arise on other Earths,
And happier Beings rest in happier Seats:
Where, with a Reach enlarg'd, the Soul shall view
The great Creator's never-ceasing Hand
Pour forth new Worlds to all Eternity,
And people the Infinity of Space.

Guil.
Fain wou'd I chear my Heart with Hopes like these;
But my sad Thought turns ever to the Grave,
To that last Dwelling, whither now we hast,
Where the black Shade shall interpose betwixt us,
And veil thee from these longing Eyes for ever.

L. Jane.
'Tis true, by those dark Paths our Journey leads,
And thro the Vale of Death we pass to Life:
But what is there in Death to blast our Hopes?
Behold the universal Works of Nature,
Where Life still springs from Death. To us the Sun
Dies every Night, and every Morn revives.
The Flow'rs, which Winter's icy Hand destroy'd,
Lift their fair Heads, and live again in Spring.
Mark, with what Hopes upon the furrow'd Plain
The careful Plowman casts the pregnant Grain;
There hid as in a Grave awhile it lies,
Till the revolving Season bids it rise,
Nature's genial Pow'rs command a Birth,
And potent call it from the teeming Earth:
Then large Increase the bury'd Treasures yield,
And with full Harvest crown the plenteous Field.

[Exeunt severally with the Guards.