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Let us contend, as friends and brave men ought,
With openness and justice to each other;
That he who wins the fair-one to his arms,
May take her as the crown of great desert,
And if the wretched loser does repine,
His own heart and the world may all condemn him.

[Exit Pem. Guil. How cross the ways of life lie! While we

think We travel on direct in one high road, And have our journey's end oppos'd in view, A thousand thwarting paths break in upon us, To puzzle and perplex our wand'ring steps ; Love, friendship, hatred, in their turns mislead us, And ev'ry passion has its separate interest : Where is that piercing foresight can unfold Where all this mazy error will have end, And tell the doom resery'd for me and Pembroke? " There is but one end certain, that is Death : “ Yet ev’n that certainty is still uncertain. « For of these several tracks which lie before us, " We know that one leads certainly to death, " But know not which that one is.” 'Tis in vain, This blind divining; let me think no more on't: And see the mistress of our fate appear!

Enter Lady JANE GRAY. Attendants.
✓ Hail, princely maid ! who with auspicious beauty

Chear'st ev'ry drooping heart in this sad place;
Who, like the silver regent of the night,

Lift'st up thy sacred beams upon the land,
To bid the gloom look gay, dispel our horrors,
And make us less lament the setting sun.
L. 7. Gray. Yes, Guilford; well dost thou com-

pare my presence
To the faint comfort of the waining moon:
Like her cold orb, a cheerless gleam I bring :
« Silence and heaviness of heart, with dews
« To dress the face of nature all in tears."
But say, how fares the king?

Guil. He lives as yet, But ev'ry moment cuts away a hope, Adds to our fears, and gives the infant saint Great prospect of his op'ning heaven. L. y. Gray. “ Descend ye choirs of angels, to re

ceive him, “ Tune your melodious harps to some high strain, “ And waft him upwards with a song of triumph; “ A purer soul, and one more like yourselves, Ne’er enter'd at the golden gates of bliss." Oh, Guilford! What remains for wretched England, When he, our guardian angel, shall forsake us ? « For whose dear sake Heav'n spar'd a guilty land, " And scatter'd not its plagues while Edward reign'd.

Guil. I own my heart bleeds inward at the thought,

And rising horrors crowd the op'ning scene."
And yet, forgive me, thou, my native country,
Thou land of liberty, thou nurse of heroes,
Forgive me, if, in spite of all thy dangers,
New springs of pleasure flow within my bosom,

When thus 'tis giv'n me to behold those eyes,
Thus

gaze and wonder, “how excelling nature
" Can give each day new patterns of her skill,
« And yet at once surpass 'em."

L. 7. Gray. Oh, vain flattery! “ Harsh and ill-sounding ever to my ear; " But on a day like this, the raven's note “ Strikes on my sense more sweetly." But, no

more, “ I charge thee touch the ungrateful theme no

more ;'?
Lead me, to pay my duty to the king,
To wet his pale cold hand with these last tears,
And share the blessings of his parting breath.

Guil. Were I like dying Edward, sure a touch
Of this dear hand would kindle life anew.
But I obey, I dread that gath’ring frown;
And, oh, whene'er my bosom swells with passion,
And my full heart is pain’d with ardent love,
Allow me but to look on you, and sigh;
'Tis all the humble joy that Guilford asks.
L. 7. Gray. Still wilt thou frame thy speech to this

vain purpose, " When the wan king of terrors stalks before us,". When universal ruin gathers round, And no escape is left us? Are we not Like wretches in a storm, whom ev'ry moment The greedy deep is gaping to devour? s6 Around us see the pale despairing crew

“ Wring their sad hands, and give their labour

o'er;" The hope of life has ev'ry heart forsook, And horror sits on each distracted look; “ One solemn thought of death does all employ, " And cancels, like a dream, delight and joy; " One sorrow streams from all their weeping eyes, “ And one consenting voice for mercy cries;' Trembling, they dread just Heav'n's avenging power, Mourn their past lives, and wait the fatal hour.

[Exeunt.

ACT II. SCENE I.

Continues. Enter the Duke of NORTHUMBERLAND, and

the Duke of SUFFOLK.

Northumberland.
Yet then be cheer'd my heart, amidst thy mourning,
“ Though fate hang heavy o'er us, tho' pale fear
« And wild distraction sit on ev'ry face;"
Though never day of grief was known like this,
Let me rejoice, and bless the hallow'd light,
Whose beams auspicious shine upon our union,
And bid me call the noble Suffolk brother.

Suff. I know not what my secret soul presages,
But something seems to whisper me within,
That we have been too hasty. “ For myself,
" I wish this matter had been yet delay d ;

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" That we had waited some more blessed time,
“ Some better day with happier omens hallow'd,
" For love to kindle up his holy Aame.
“ But you, my noble brother, wou'd prevail,
“ And I have yielded to you."

North. Doubt not any thing;
Nor hold the hour unlucky, that good heav'n,
" Who softens the corrections of his hand,
< And mixes still a comfort with afflictions,"
Has giv'n to-day a blessing in our children,
To wipe away our tears for dying Edward.

Suff. In that I trust. Good angels be our guard,
And make

my
fears

prove vain. But see! My wife!
With her, your son, the gen'rous Guilford comes;
She has inform’d him of our present purpose.
Enter the Duchess of SUFFOLK, and Lord GUILFORD.

L. Guil. How shall I speak the fulness of my heart?
What shall I say to bless you for this goodness ?
Oh, gracious princess ! But my life is yours,
And all the business of my years to come,
Is, to attend with humblest duty on you,
And pay my vow'& obedience at your feet.
Duch. Suff. Yes, noble youth, I share in all thy

joys, “ In all the joys which this sad day can give. " The dear delight I have to call thee son, • Comes like a cordial to my drooping spirits; " It broods with gentle warmth upon my bosom,

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