"I will forego a bridegroom's sacred right, "And sleep far from thee, on th' unwholesome

earth,

"Where damps arise, and whistling winds blow loud,"Then when the day returns, come drooping to

thee,

"My locks still drizzling with the dews of night, "And cheer my heart with thee as with the morn

ing.

"L. J. Gray. Say, wo't thou consecrate this night

to sorrow,

"And give up every sense to solemn sadness?
"Wo't thou, in watching, waste the tedious hours,
"Sit silently and careful by my side,

"List to the tolling clocks, the cricket's cry,
"And ev'ry melancholy midnight noise?
"Say, wo't thou banish pleasure and delight?
"Wo't thou forget that ever we have lov'd,
"And only now and then let fall a tear,

"To mourn for Edward's loss, and England's fate?
"Guil. Unweary'd still, I will attend thy woes,
"And be a very faithful partner to thee.

"Near thee I will complain in sighs as numberless "As murmurs breathing in the leafy grove : "My eyes shall mix their falling drops with thine, "Constant, as never-ceasing waters roll,

"That purl and gurgle o'er their sands for ever. "The sun shall see my grief, thro' all his course; "And when night comes, sad Philomel, who 'plains "From starry vesper to the rosy dawn,

“Shall cease to tune her lamentable song,

ever.

"Ere I give o'er to weep and mourn with thee. "L. J. G. Here then I take thee to my heart for [Giving her hand. "The dear companion of my future days: "Whatever Providence allots for each, "Be that the common portion of us both "Share all the griefs of thy unhappy Jane; "But if good Heav'n has any joys in store, "Let them be all thy own.

"Guil. Thou wondrous goodness!

;

"Heav'n gives too much at once in giving thee,
"And by the common course of things below,
"Where each delight is temper'd with affliction,
"Some evil terrible and unforeseen,

"Must sure ensue and poise the scale against
"This vast profusion of exceeding pleasure.
"But be it so, let it be death and ruin,
"On any terms I take thee.

"L. J. G. Trust our fate

"To him whose gracious wisdom guides our ways, "And makes what we think evil turn to good." Permit me now to leave thee and retire;

I'll summon all my reason and my duty,

To sooth this storm within, and frame my heart
To yield obedience to my noble parents.

Guil. Good angels minister their comforts to thee. And, oh! “ if, as my fond belief wou'd hope, "If any word of mine be gracious to thee,"

I beg thee, I conjure thee, drive away

Those murd'rous thoughts of grief that kill thy quiet.
Restore thy gentle bosom's native peace,
Lift up the light of gladness in thy eyes,
And cheer thy heaviness with one dear smile.

L. J. G. Yes, Guilford, I will study to forget
All that the royal Edward has been to me,

"How we have lov'd, even from our very cradles." My private loss no longer will I mourn,

But ev'ry tender thought to thee shall turn : With patience I'll submit to Heav'n's decree, And what I lost in Edward find in thee. But, oh! when I revolve what ruins wait Our sinking altars and the falling state : "When I consider what my native land "Expected from her pious sov'reign's hand; "How form'd he was to save her from distress, "A king to govern and a saint to bless :" New sorrow to my lab'ring breast succeeds, And my whole heart for wretched England bleeds.

[Exit Lady Jane Gray. Guil. My heart sinks in me, at her soft complaining;

And ev'ry moving accent that she breathes
Resolves my courage, slackens my tough nerves,
And melts me down to infancy and tears.

"My fancy palls, and takes distaste at pleasure : "My soul grows out of tune, it loaths the world, "Sickens at all the noise and folly of it;

"And I cou'd set me down in some dull shade,

"Where lonely Contemplation keeps her cave,

"And dwells with hoary hermits; there forget my

self,

"There fix my stupid eyes upon the earth,

“And muse away an age in deepest melancholy.”

Enter PEMBROKE.

Pem. Edward is dead; so said the great Northumberland,

As now he shot along by me in haste.

He press'd my hand, and in a whisper begg'd me
To guard the secret carefully as life,

Till some few hours should pass; for much hung on

it.

Much may indeed hang on it. See my Guilford!

My friend !

Guil. Ha! Pembroke!

[Speaking to him. [Starting.

Pem. Wherefore dost thou start?

Why sits that wild disorder on thy visage,

Somewhat that looks like passions strange to thee,
The paleness of surprise and ghastly fear?
Since I have known thee first, and call'd thee friend,
I never saw thee so unlike thyself,

So chang'd upon a sudden.

Guit. How! so changed!

Pem. So to my eye thou seem'st.

Guil. The king is dead.

Pem. I learn'd it from thy father,

Just as I enter'd here. But say, cou'd that,
A fate which ev'ry moment we expected,

Distract thy thought, or shock thy temper thus ?

Guil. Oh, Pembroke! 'tis in vain to hide from

thee!

For thou hast look'd into my artless bosom,
And seen at once the hurry of my soul.
'Tis true thy coming struck me with surprise.
I have a thought-But wherefore said I one?
I have a thousand thoughts all up in arms,
"Like pop'lous towns disturb'd at dead of night,
"That, mix'd in darkness, bustle to and fro,
"As if their business were to make confusion."

Pem. Then sure our better angels call'd me hither;
For this is friendship's hour, and friendship's office,
To come, when counsel and when help is wanting,
To share the pain of every gnawing care,
To speak of comfort in the time of trouble,
To reach a hand and save thee from adversity.
Guil. And wo't thou be a friend to me indeed?
And, while I lay my bosom bare before thee,
"Wo't thou deal tenderly, and let thy hand
"Pass gently over ev'ry painful part ?”

Wo't thou with patience hear, and judge with temper?

And if perchance thou meet with something harsh,
Somewhat to rouse thy rage, and grate thy soul,
Wo't thou be master of thyself and bear it?

Pem. Away with all this needless preparation!
Thou know'st thou art so dear, so sacred to me,
That I can never think thee an offender.
If it were so, that I indeed must judge thee,