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Pem. Where shall we seek for truth, when ev'n
Gar. Nay, if you rail, farewell. The queen must be
[Exit Gardiner. Pem. 'Twas unlucky To meet and cross upon this froward priest : But let me lose the thought on't ; let me haste, Pour my glad tidings forth in Guilford's bosom, And
pay him back the life his friendship sav'd. [Exit.
The Lady JANE kneeling, as at her devotion ; a light, and
a book placed on a table before her. Enter Lieutenant of the Tower, Lord GUILFORD, and one of Lady Jane's
Lieut. Let me 'not press upon your lordship farther, But wait your leisure in the antichamber.
Guil. I will not hold you long. [Exit Lieutenant.
Wom. Softly, my lord ! For yet, behold she kneels.
“ Before the night “ Had reach'd her middle space, she left her bed, “ And with a pleasing, sober cheerfulness, ". As for her funeral, array'd herself « In those sad solemn weeds. Since then her knee “ Has known that posture only, and her eye, “ Or fix'd upon the sacred page
before her, “ Or lifted, with her rising hopes, to heav'n.”
Guil. See, with what zeal those holy hands are rear'd! “ Mark her vermilion lip, with fervour trembling; " Her spotless bosom swells with sacred ardor, “ And burns with ecstasy and strong devotion ; “ Her supplication sweet, her faithful vows
Fragrant and pure, and grateful to high Heaven, “ Like incense from the golden censer rise; « Or blessed angels minister unseen, « Catch the soft sounds, and with alternate office, " Spread their ambrosial wings, then mount with joy,
" And waft them upwards to the throne of grace." But she has ended, and comes forward. [Lady Jane rises, and comes toward the front of the stage.
L. 7. Gray. Ha! Art thou my Guilford ? Wherefore dost thou come To break the settled quiet of my soul ? I meant to part without another pang, And lay my weary head down full of peace.
Guil. Forgive the fondness of my longing soul, That melts with tenderness, and leans toward thee: “ Tho' the imperious, dreadful voice of fate " Summon her hence, and warn her from the world.” But if to see thy Guilford give thee pain, Wou'd I had died, and never more beheld thee: “ Tho' my lamenting discontented ghost “ Had wander'd forth unbless’d by those dear eyes, " And wail'd thy loss in death's eternal shades."
L. 7. Gray. My heart had ended ev'ry earthly care, And offer'd up its pray’rs for thee and England, “ And fix'd its hopes upon a rock unfailing;" While all the little bus'ness that remain'd, Was but to pass the forms of death and constancy, And leave a life become indifferent to me. But thou hast waken’d other thoughts within me; Thy sight, my dearest husband and my lord, Strikes on the tender strings of love and nature : My vanquish'd passions rise again, and tell me, 'Tis more, far more than death to part from thee.
Enter PemBROKE. Pem. Oh, let me fly, bear me, thou swift impatience, And lodge me in my faithful Guilford's arms!
[Embracing That I may snatch thee from the greedy grave, That I may warm his gentle heart with joy, And talk to him of life, of life and pardon.
Guil. What means my dearest Pembroke?
Pem. Oh, my speech Is choak'd with words that crowd to tell my tidings ! But I have sav'd thee-and-Oh, joy unutterable ! The queen, my gracious, my forgiving mistress, Has given not only thee to my request, But she, she too, in whom alone thou liv'st, The partner of thy heart, thy love is safe. Guil. Millions of blessings wait her!-Has she-tell
Pem. Both, both are pardon'd.
amends For all I've done against her-Thou fair excellence,
[ Kneeling. Canst thou forgive the hostile hand that arm'd Against thy cause, and robb'd thee of a crown? L. 7. Gray. Oh, rise, my lord, and let me take your
posture. Life and the world are hardly worth my care,
But you have reconcil'd me to 'em both ;
Pem. To me! forbid it goodness! if I live,
Enter Lieutenant of the Tower.
Enter GARDINER, and Attendants.
Pem. Ha! Winchester!
Gar. The queen, whose days be many,