Pem. I have not had a minute's peace of mind,
A moment's pause, to rest from rage, or think.
Gar. Learn it from me then: But ere I speak,
I warn you to be master of yourself.

Though, as you know, they have confin'd me long,
Gra'mercy to their goodness, pris'nor here;
Yet as I am allow'd to walk at large

Within the Tower, and hold free speech with any,
I have not dreamt 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 ev'ning 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 even 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 could give,
And with a mind so great, it spoke its essence
Immortal and divine.

Detraction must allow that.

Gar. She was a wonder;

Pem. "The virtuous came,

"Sorted in gentle fellowship, to crown her,

"As if they meant to mend each other's 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, Winches

ter!"

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 despite
Have trodden down our holy Roman faith,
Ransack'd our 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.

E

Pem. And wou'dst thou have my fierce impatience

stay?

Bid me lie bound upon a rack, and wait
For distant joys, whole ages yet behind?
Can love attend on politician's schemes,
Expect the slow events of cautious counsels,
Cold unresolving heads, and creeping time?
Gar. To-day, or I am ill-inform'd, Northumber-
land,

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 that love our ancient faith.

Gather your friends about you, and be ready
T' assert our zealous Mary's royal title,

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, traitor, 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'the 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! Haste, Winchester, haste! 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 cheerless 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 his 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 Pembroke and Gardiner.

Enter Lord GUILFORD and Lady JANE.

Guil. What shall I say to thee! What power divine
Will teach my tongue to tell thee what I feel?
Το 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. 7. G. 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 draws 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,

Lest aught but good shou'd 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. G. Why came we hither?

“Why was I drawn to this unlucky place,