University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

a Prison.
PRINCESS, WOMEN attending.
PRINCESS.
Nay, dry these tears—The aweful eve of death
Is but profan'd by shews of common sorrow.
I have a triple armour round my heart,
'Gainst all the shapes of terror; yet it owns
The soft contagion of affection's drops,
And melts at kindness. Come, this must not be—
You, Laura! must be near me at the block,
And help to disarray me.—What, more tears?
Stop them, for shame; I must have strangers else,
For this last office. When the axe has fallen,
They have no further power—Save from disgrace,
My poor remains, and on your loves, I charge you,
When I am dead, see, that they touch me not.
I have not been unmindful of your service.
It is not much—There were too many poor,
Too many comfortless, to leave me rich:
But you will find a father in the king,
And, for my sake, he will be bounteous to you.
Retire, and weep, I dare not look upon you.
[Takes a picture from her breast.
Thou dear dumb image of a form belov'd!
Soul of my soul, and precious even in death,
A while be sensible! Receive this sigh,
And take my last farewel. When thou shalt know
My truth, and sufferings, let not the sad tale
Blast the fair promise of thy noble youth,
But, with a sweet, a sacred melancholy,
Embalm the soft remembrance of my love.
My father! Oh, angelic host support me,
To bear this parting, and death's pang is past!