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J. Sh. A very beggar, and a wretch, indeed; And see, the nodding ruin falls to crush me! One driven by strong calamity to seek

'Tis fallen, 'tis here! I felt it on my brain ! For succours here; one perishing for want, 1 Ser. This sight disorders herWhose hunger has not tasted food these three 2 Ser. Retire, dear ladydays;

And leave this womanAnd humbly asks, for charity's dear sake,

Alic. Let her take my counsel : A draught of water and a little bread.

Why shouldst thou be a wretch ! Stab, tear thy Alic. And dost thou come to me, to me for heart, bread?

And rid thyself of this detested being ! I know thee not-Go-hunt for it abroad, I will not linger long behind thee here. Where wanton hands upon the earth have scat- A waving flood of bluish fire swells o'er metered it,

And now 'tis out, and I am drowned in blood. Or cast it on the waters–Mark the eagle, Ha! what art thou? thou horrid headless trunkAnd hungry vulture, when they wind the prey; It is my Hastings ! see, he wafts me on! Watch where the ravens of the valley feed, Away! Igo, I fly! I follow thee ! And seek thy food with them-I know thee not. But come not thou, with mischief-making beauty, J. Sk. And yet there was a time, when my To interpose between us! look not on him ! Alicia

Give thy fond arts and thy delusions o'er, Has thouglat unhappy Shore her dearest blessing, For thou shalt never, never part us more. And mourned the live-long day she passed with

[She runs off, her servants following. out me;

J. Sk. Alas! she raves; her brain, I fear, is When, paired like turtles, we were still together; turned. When often, as we prattled arm in arm, In mercy look upon her, gracious Heaven, Inclining fondly to me she has sworn,

Nor visit her for any wrong to me. She loved ine more than all the world besides. Sure I am near upon my journey's end; Alic. Ha ! say'st thou ! Let ine look upon thee My head runs round, my eyes begin to fail, well

And dancing shadows swim before my sight. 'Tis true-I know thee now-A mischief on thee! I can no more. [Lies down] Receive me, thou Thou art that fatal fair, that cursed she,

cold earth, That set my brain a madding. Thou hast robbed Thou common parent, take me to thy bosom, me;

And let me rest with thee.
Thou hast undone me--
-Murder ! Oh, my

Hastings !
See his pale bloody head shoots glaring by me ! Bel. Upon the ground!
Give me him back again, thou soft deluder, Thy miseries can never lay thee lower.
Thou beauteous witch!

Look up, thou poor afflicted one! thou niourner, J. Sh. Alas! I never wronged you

Whom none has comforted! Where are thy Oh! then be good to me; have pity on me;

friends, Thou never knewest the bitterness of want, The dear companions of thy joyful days, And may'st thou never know it. Oh! bestow Whose hearts thy warm prosperity made glad, Some poor remain, the voiding of thy table, Whose arms were taught to grow like ivy round A morsel to support iny famnished soul.

thee, Alic. Avaunt ! and come not near me- And bind thee to their bosoms? Thus with thee, J. Sh. To thy hand

Thus let us live, and let us die, they said, I trusted all; gave my whole store to thee, For sure thou art the sister of our loves, Nor do I ask it back; allow me but

And nothing shall divide us. Now where are The smallest pittance! give me but to eat,

they? Lest I fall down, and perish here before thee. J. Sh. Ah, Belmour! where indeed? They Alic. Nay! tell not me! Where is thy king, stand aloof, thy Edward,

And view my desolation from afar ! And all the siniling cringing train of courtiers, When they pass by, they shake their heads in That bent the knee before thee?

scorn, J. Sh. Oh! for mercy!

And cry, behold the harlot and her end ! Alic. Mercy! I know it not-for I am miser- And yet thy goodness turns aside to pity me. able.

Alas! there may be danger; get thee gone ! I'll give thee misery, for here she dwells ; Let me not pull a ruin on thy head. This is her house, where the sun never dawns; Leave me to die alone, for I am fallen The bird of night sits screaming o'er the roof, Never to rise, and all relief is vain. Grim spectres sweep along the horrid gloom, Bel. Yet raise thy drooping head; for I am And nought is heard but wailings and lainentings. Hark! something cracks above! it shakes, it To chase away despair. Behold! where yonder totters !

That honest inan, that faithful, brave Dumont,




Is hasting to thy aid

The minister of Heaven's inquiring justice. J. Sh. Dumont! ha! where!

Array thyself all terrible for judgment, (Raising herself, and looking aghast. Wrath in thy eyes, and thunder in thy voice; Then Heaven has heard my prayer; his very Pronounce my sentence, and if yet there be

A woe I have not felt, inflict it on me. Renews the springs of life, and cheers my

soul. Sh. The measure of thy sorrows is compleat! Has he then escaped the snare?

And I am come to snatch thee from injustice. Bel. He has; but see

The hand of power no more shall crush thy He comes unlike to that Dumont you knew;

weakness, For now he wears your better angel's form, Nor proud oppression grind thy humble soul. And comes to visit you'with peace and pardon. J. Sh. Art thou not risen by miracle from

death ? Enter Shore.

Thy shroud is fallen from off thee, and the grave J. Sh. Speak, tell me! Which is he? And ha! Was bid to give thee up, that thou mightst come what would

The messenger of grace and goodness to me, This dreadful vision ! see it comes upon me, To seal my peace, and bless me e'er I go. It is my husband Ah!

[She swoons. Oh! let me then fall down beneath thy feet, Sh. She faints ! support her!

And weep my gratitude for ever there; Sustain her head, while I infuse this cordial Give me your drops, ye soft descending rains, Into her dying lips—from spicy drugs,

Give me your streams, ye never ceasing springs, Rich herbs and Aowers, the potent juice is drawn; That my sad eyes may still supply my duty, With wondrous force it strikes the lazy spirits, And feed an everlasting flood of sorrow. Drives them around, and wakens life anew. Sh. Waste not thy feeble spirits

I have long Bel. Her weakness could not bear the strong Beheld, unknown, thy mourning and repentance; surprize.

Therefore my heart has set aside the past, But see, she stirs ! And the returning blood And holds thee white, as unoffending innocence: Faintly begins to blush again, and kindle Therefore in spite of cruel Gloster's rage, Upon her ashy cheek

Soon as my friend had broke my prison doors, Sh. So-gently raise her- [Raising her up. I flew to thy assistance. Let us haste, J. Sh. Ha! What art thou ? Belmour ! Now while occasion seems to sinile upon us, Bel. How fare you, lady?

Forsake this place of shame, and find a shelter. J. Sh. My heart is thrilled with horror- J. Sh. What shall I say to you? But I obeyBel. Be of courage

Sh. Lean on my arm-Your husband lives! 'tis he, my worthiest friend- J. Sh. Alas! I'm wondrous faint: J. Sh. Still art thou there! Still dost thou ho- But that's not strange; I have not eat these three ver round me!

days. Oh, save me, Belmour, from his angry shade! Sh. Oh, merciless ! Look here, my love, I've Bel. 'Tis he himself'! he lives! look up

brought thee J. Sh. I dare not!

Some rich conserves-
Oh! that my eyes could shut him out for ever- J. Sh. How can you be so good ?

Sh. Am I so hateful, then, so deadly to thee, But you were ever thus. I well remember
To blast thy eyes with horror? Since I'm grown With what fond care, what diligence of love,
A burthen to the world, myself, and thee, You lavished out your wealth to buy me plea-
Would I had ne'er survived to see thee more!

sures, J. Sh. Oh! thou most injured-dost thou live, Preventing every wish; have you forgot indeed!

The costly string of pearl you brought me home, Fall then, ye mountains, on my guilty head; And tied about my neck ?- -How could I leave Hide me, ye rocks, within your secret caverns;

you? Cast thy black veil upon my shame, 0 night! Sh. Taste some of this, or thisAnd shield me with thy sable wings for ever. J. Sh. You are strangely alteredSh. Why dost thou turn away? Why tremble Say, gentle Belmour, is he not? How pale thus?

Your visage is become? Your eyes are hollow; Why thus indulge thy fears? and in despair, Nay, you are wrinkled tooAlas, the day! Abandon thy distracted soul to horror ?

My wretchedness has cost you many a tear, Cast every black and guilty thought behind thee, And many a bitter pang, since last we parted, And let them never vex thy quiet more.

Sh. No more of that -Thou talkest, but My arms, my heart, are open to receive thee,

dost not eat. To bring thee back to thy forsaken home,

J. Sh. My feeble jaws forget their common With tender joy, with fond forgiving love,

office, And all the longings of my first desires.

My tasteless tongue cleaves to the clammy roof, J. Sh. No, arın thy brown with vengeance, and And now a general loathing grows upon nie. appear

Oh! I am sick at heart!

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Sh. Thou murderous sorrow!

Sh. Oh, my love! Wilt thou still drink her blood, pursue her Why have I lived to see this bitter moment, still !

This grief, by far surpassing all my former? Must she then die! Oh, my poor penitent! Why dost thou fix thy dying eyes upon me, Speak peace to thy sad heart: she hears me not; With such an earnest, such a piteous look, Grief masters every sense-help me to hold her! As if thy heart were full of some sad meaning

Thou could'st not speak ?-
Enter CATESBY, with a guard.

J. Sh. Forgive me e! -but forgive me! Cat. Seize on them both, as traitors to the Sh. Be witness for me, ye celestial host, state!

Such mercy and such pardon as my soul Bel. What means this violence ?

Accords to thee, and begs of Heaven to shew (Guards lay hold on Shore and Belmour. thee, Cat. Have we not found you,

May such befall me at my latest hour, In scorn of the protector's strict command, And make my portion blest or cursed for ever! Assisting this base woman, and abetting

J, Sh. Then all is well, and I shall sleep in Her infamy?

peaceSh. Infamy on thy head !

'Tis very dark, and I have lost you nowThou tool of power, thou pandar to authority! Was there not something I would have bequeathI tell thee, knave, thou knowest of none so vir

ed you? tuous,

But I have nothing left me to bestow, And she that bore thee was an Æthiop to her. Nothing but one sad sigh. Oh! mercy, Heaven! Cat. You'll answer this at full-Away with

[Dies. them.

Bel. There fled the soul, Sh. Is charity grown treason to your court? And left her load of misery behind. What honest man would live beneath such rulers! Sh. Oh, my heart's treasure ! Is this pale sad I am content that we should die together

visage Cat. Convey the men to prison; but for her, All that remains of thee? Are these dead eyes Leave her to hunt her fortune as she may. The light that cheered my soul? Oh, heavy hour! J. Sh. I will not part with him—for me!- But I will fix my trembling lips to thine, for me!

'Till I am cold and senseless quite, as thou art. Oh! must he die for me !

What, must we part, then?

—will you— [Following him as he is carried off-She falls.

[To the guards taking him away. Sh. Inhuman villains !

Fare thee well

Kissing her. [Breaking from the guards. Now execute your tyrant's will

, and lead me Stand off! The agonies of death are on her- To bonds, or death, 'tis equally indifferent. She pulls, she gripes me hard with her cold hand. Bel. Let those, who view this sad example, J. Sh. Was this blow wanting to compleat my know, ruin?

What fate attends the broken marriage vow; Oh! let him go, ye ministers of terror,

And teach their children, in succeeding times, He shall offend no more, for I will die,

No common vengeance waits upon these crimes, And yield obedience to your cruel master. When such severe repentance could not save Tarry a little, but a little longer,

From want, from shame, and an untimely grave. And take my last breath with you.

[E.reunt omnes.

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SCENE I.-The Court.

In her first native simple majesty; Enter the Duke of NORTHUMBERLAND, Duke of Shall fail with Edward, and again old Rome

The toil of saints, and price of martyrs' blood, SUFFOLK, and Sir John GATES.

Shall spread her banners; and her monkish host, North. 'Tis all in vain ; Heaven has required Pride, ignorance, and rapine, shall return; its pledge,

Blind bloody zeal, and cruel priestly power, And he must die.

Shall scourge the land for ten dark ages more. Suff. Is there an honest heart,

Gates. Is there no help in all the healing art, That loves our England, does not mourn for Ed- No potent juice or drug to save a life ward ?

So precious, and prevent a nation's fate? The genius of our isle is shook with sorrow; North. What has been left untried, that art He bows his venerable head with pain,

could do? And labours with the sickness of his lord. The hoary wrinkled leech has watched and toiled, Religion melts in every holy eye;

Tried every health-restoring herb and gum, All comfortless, atflicted, and forlorn,

And wearied out his painful skill in vain. She sits on earth, and weeps upon her cross, Close, like a dragon folded in his den, Weary of man, and his detested ways:

Soine secret venom preys upon his heart; Even now she seems to meditate her flight, A stubborn and unconquerable flame And waft her angels to the thrones above. Creeps in his veins, and drinks the streams of life; North. Ay, there, my lord, you touch our hea- His youthful sinews are unstrung; cold sweats viest loss.

And deadly paleness sit upon his visage; With him our holy faith is doomed to suffer; And every gasp we look shall be his last. With him our church shall veil ber sacred front, Gates. Doubt not, your graces, but the Popish That late from heaps of Gothic ruins rose,

faction 3

Will at this juncture urge their utmost force. To hang this ponderous globe upon a hair,
All on the princess Mary turn their eyes,

And bid it dance before a breath of wind.
Well hoping she shall build again their altars, She must be here, and lodged in Guilford's arms,
And bring their idol-worship back in triumph. Ere Edward dies, or all we have done is marred.
North. Good Heaven, ordain some better fate Ha! Pembroke! that's a bar which thwarts my
for England !

way! Suff. What better can we hope, if she should His fiery temper brooks not opposition, reign?

And must be met with soft and supple arts, I know her well; a blinded zealot is she; With crouching courtesy, and honeyed words, A gloomy nature, sullen and severe;

Such as assuage the fierce, and bend the strong. Nurtured by proud presuming Romish priests, Taught to believe they only cannot err,

Enter the Earl of PEMBROKE. Because they cannot err;


in scorn

Good morrow, noble Pembroke: we have staid
Of reason, and the whole lay world; instructed The meeting of the council for your presence.
To hate whoe'er dissent from what they teach; Pem. For mine, my lord ! you mock your
To purge the world from heresy by blood;

servant sure, To massacre a nation, and believe it

To say that I am wanted, where yourself, An act well pleasing to the Lord of Mercy: The great Alcides of our state, is present. These are thy gods, oh, Rome, and this thy faith! Whatever dangers menace prince or people, North. And shall we tamely yield ourselves to Our great Northumberland is arned to meet bondage?

thein : Bow down before these holy purple tyrants,

The ablest hand, and firmest heart you bear, And bid thein tread upon our slavish necks? Nor need a second in the glorious task; No; let this faithful free-born English hand Equal yourself to all the toils of empire. First dig my grave in liberty and honour;

Norih. No; as I honour virtue, I have tried, And though I found but one more thus resolved, And know my strength too well; nor can the That honest man and I would die together.

voice Suff. Doubt not, there are ten thousand and Of friendly flattery, like yours, deceive me. ten thousand,

I know my temper liable to passions, To own a cause so just.

And all the frailties common to our nature; Gates. The list I gave

Blind to events, too easy of persuasion, Into your grace's hand last night, declares And often, too, too often, have I erred : My power and friends at full. [To North. Much therefore have I need of some good man, North. Be it your care,

Some wise and honest heart, whose friendly aid Good Sir John Gates, to see your friends ap- Might guide my treading through our present pointed,

dangers; And ready for the occasion. Ilaste this instant; And, by the honour of my name I swear, Lose not a moment's time.

I know not one of all our English peers, Gates. I go, my lord.

[Erit Gates. Whom I would chuse for that best friend, like North. Your grace's princely daughter, lady Pembroke. Jane,

Pem. What shall I answer to a trust so noble, Is she yet come to court?

This prodigality of praise and honour? Suff. Not yet arrived,

Were not your grace too generous of soul, But with the soonest I expect her here. To speak a language differing from your heart, I know her duty to the dying king,

Ilow might I think you could not mean this Joined with my strict commands to hasten hither, goodness Will bring her on the wing.

To one, whom his ill-fortune has ordained North. Beseech your grace,

The rival of your son. To speed another messenger to press her;

North. No more; I scorn a thought For on her happy presence all our counsels So much below the dignity of virtue. Depend, and take their fate.

'Tis true, I look on Guilford like a father, Suff. Upon the instant

Lean to his side, and see but half his failings: Your grace shall be obeyed. I go to summon her. But, on a point like this, when equal merit

[Erit Suffolk. Stands forth to make its bold appeal to honour, North. What trivial influences hold dominion And calls to have the balance held in justice; O'er wise men's counsels, and the fate of ein- Away with all the fondnesses of nature ! pire !

I judge of Pembroke and my son alike. The greatest schemes that human wit can forge, Pein. I ask no more to bind me to your serOr bold ambition dares to put in practice,

vice. Depend upon our husbanding a moment,

North. The realın is now at hazard, and bold And the light lasting of a woman's will;

factions As if the lord of nature should delight

Threaten change, tumult, and disastrous days. Vol. L


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