All that I ask, is, though my fortune frown,
And bury me beneath this fatal crown;
Let that one good be added to my doom,
To save this land from tyranny and Rome.

[Exeunt.

SCENE I-Continues.

Enter PEMBROKE and GARDINER.
Gar. In an unlucky and accursed hour
Set forth that traitor duke, that proud Northum-
berland,

To draw his sword upon the side of heresy,
And war against our Mary's holy right:
Ill fortune fly before, and pave his way
With disappointments, mischief, and defeat!
Do thou, O holy Becket, the protector,
The champion, and the martyr of our church,
Appear, and once more own the cause of Rome:
Beat down his lance, break thou his sword in
battle,

And cover foul rebellion with confusion!

Pem. I saw him marching at his army's head; I marked him issuing through the city-gate, In harness all appointed, as he passed; And (for he wore his beaver up) could read Upon his visage, horror and dismay.

No voice of cheerful salutation cheered him, None wished his arms might thrive, or bade God

speed him,

But, through a staring ghastly-looking crowd,
Unhailed, unblessed, with heavy heart he went;
As if his traitor father's haggard ghost,
And Somerset, fresh bleeding from the axe,
On either hand had ushered him to ruin.

Gar. Nor shall the holy vengeance loiter long.
At Farmingham, in Suffolk, lies the queen,
Mary, our pious mistress: where each day
The nobles of the land, and swarming populace,
Gather, and list beneath her royal ensigns.
The fleet, commanded by Sir Thomas Jerning-
ham,

Set out in warlike manner to oppose her,
With one consent have joined to own her cause:
The valiant Sussex, and Sir Edward Hastings,
With many more of note, are up in arms,
And all declare for her.

Pem. The citizens,

Who held the noble Somerset right dear,
Hate this aspiring Dudley and his race,

And would upon the instant join to oppose him; Could we but draw some of the lords of the council

To appear among them, own the same design,
And bring the reverend sanction of authority
To lead them into action. For that purpose,
To thee, as to an oracle, I come,

To learn what fit expedient may be found,

To win the wary council to our side.
Say thou, whose head is grown thus silver-white,
In arts of government, and turns of state,
How we may blast our enemies with ruin,
And sink the cursed Northumberland to hell!
Gar. In happy time be your whole wish ac-
complished.

Since the proud duke set out, I have had conference,

As fit occasion served, with divers of them,
The earl of Arundel, Mason, and Cheyney,
And find them all disposed as we could ask,
By holy Mary, if I count aright,
To-day the better part shall leave this place,
And meet at Baynard's castle in the city;
There own our sovereign's title, and defy
Jane and her gospel crew. But, hie you hence!
This place is still within our foe's command;
Their puppet-queen reigns here.

Enter an Officer with a Guard.
Offi. Seize on them both.

[Guards seize Pembroke and Gardiner, My lord, you are a prisoner to the state, Pem. Ha! by whose order?

Offi. By the queen's command,

Signed and delivered by lord Guilford Dudley. Pem. Curse on his traitor's heart!

Gar. Rest you contented:

You have loitered here too long; but use your patience;

These bonds shall not be lasting. Offi. As for you, sir, [To Gardiner. 'Tis the queen's pleasure you be close confined: You have used that fair permission was allowed

you,

To walk at large within the Tower, unworthily.
You are noted for an over-busy meddler,
A secret practiser against the state;
For which, henceforth, your limits shall be straiter.
Hence, to your chamber!

Gar. Farewell, gentle Pembroke;

I trust that we shall meet on blither terms:
Till then, amongst my beads I will remember you,
And give you to the keeping of the saints.

[Exeunt part of the guards with Gardiner.
Pem. Now, whither must I go?
Offi. This way, my lord.

Enter GUILFord.

[Going off.

And masters all the noble nature in thee,
As sure as thou hast wronged me, I am come,
In tenderness of friendship, to preserve thee;
To plant even all the power I have before thee,
And fence thee from destruction with my life.
Pem. Friendship from thee! But my just soul
disdains thee.

Hence! take the prostituted bauble back!
Hang it to grace some slavering idiot's neck,
For none but fools will praise the tinsel toy.
But thou art come, perhaps, to vaunt thy great-

Guil. Oh, take thy sword, and let thy valiant hand

Be ready armed to guard thy noble life.
The time, the danger, and thy wild impatience,
Forbid me all to enter into speech with thee,
Or I could tell thee-

Pem. No, it needs not, traitor!

For all thy poor, thy little arts are known.
Thou fearest my vengeance, and art come to
fawn,

To make a merit of that proffered freedom,
Which, in despite of thee, a day shall give me.
Nor can my fate depend on thee, false Guilford;
For know, to thy confusion, ere the sun
Twice gild the east, our royal Mary comes
To end thy pageant reign, and set me free.
Guil. Ungrateful and unjust! Hast thou then

known me

So little, to accuse my heart of fear?
Hast thou forgotten Musselborough's field?
Did I then fear, when by thy side I fought,
And dyed my maiden sword in Scottish blood?
But this is madness all.

Pem. Give me my sword. [Taking his sword.
Perhaps, indeed, I wrong thee. Thou hast thought;
And, conscious of the injury thou hast done me,
Art come to proffer me a soldier's justice,
And meet my arm in single opposition.
Lead, then, and let me follow to the field,

Guil. Yes, Pembroke, thou shalt satisfy thy

Trust me this once: believe me when I tell thee,
Thy safety and thy life is all I seek.
Away.

Pem. By Heaven, I will not stir a step!
Curse on this shuffling, dark, ambiguous phrase!
If thou wouldst have me think thou mean'st me
fairly,

Speak with that plainness honesty delights in,
And let thy double tongue for once be true,

Guil, Forgive me, filial piety and nature,
If, thus compelled, 1 break your sacred laws,
Reveal my father's crime, and blot with infamy
The hoary head of him who gave me being,
To save the man, whom my soul loves, from death!
[Giving a paper.
Read there the fatal purpose of thy foe,
A thought which wounds my soul with shame and
horror!

Somewhat that darkness should have hid for ever,

But that thy life-Say, hast thou seen that character?

Pem. I know it well; the hand of proud
Northumberland,

Directed to his minions, Gates and Palmer.
What's this?

[Reads. Remember, with your closest care, to observe 'those whom I named to you at parting; especially keep your eye upon the earl of Pembroke; as his power and interest are most considerable, so his opposition will be most fatal to us. Re'member the resolution was taken, if you should ❝ find him inclined to our enemies. The forms of 'justice are tedious, and delays are dangerous. If he falters, lose not the sight of him till your 'daggers have reached his heart,' My heart! Oh, murderous villain! Guil. Since we parted,

Thy ways have all been watched, thy steps been marked;

Thy secret treaties with the malecontents,
That harbour in the city, thy conferring
With Gardiner here in the Tower; all is known:
And, in pursuance of that bloody mandate,
A set of chosen ruffians wait to end thee:
There was but one way left me to preserve thee;
I took it; and this morning sent my warrant
To seize thy person- -But begone!

Pem. 'Tis so 'tis truth-I see his honest heart

Guil. I have a friend of well-tried faith and

courage,

Who, with a fit disguise, and arms concealed,
Attends without, to guide thee hence with safety.
Pem. What is Northumberland? And what art
thou?

Guil. Waste not the time, Away!
Pem. Here let me fix,

And gaze with everlasting wonder on thee.
What is there good or excellent in man,
That is not found in thee? Thy virtues flash,
They break at once on my astonished soul;
As if the curtains of the dark were drawn,
To let in day at midnight.

Guil. Think me true;

And though ill fortune crossed upon our friendship

Pem. Curse on our fortune!-Think I know thee honest.

Guil. For ever I could hear thee-but thy life, Oh, Pembroke! linger not

Pem. And can I leave thee,

Ere I have clasped thee in my eager arms, And given thee back my sad repenting heart? Believe me, Guilford, like the patriarch's dove,

[Embracing. It wandered forth, but found no resting place, Till it came home again to lodge with thee. Guil. What is there that my soul can more desire,

Than these dear marks of thy returning friendship?

The danger comes -If you stay longer here,
You die, my Pembroke.

Pem. Let me stay and die;
For if I go, I go to work thy ruin.

Thou know'st not what a foe thou send'st me forth;

That I have sworn destruction to the queen, And pledged my faith to Mary and her cause: My honour is at stake.

Guil. I know 'tis given.

But go-the stronger thy engagements there,
The more's thy danger here. There is a power
Who sits above the stars; in him I trust:
All that I have, his bounteous hand bestowed;
And he, that gave it, can preserve it to me.
If his o'er-ruling will ordains my ruin,
What is there more, but to fall down before him,
And humbly yield obedience?Fly! begone!

Pem. Yes, I will go-for, see! Behold who comes! Oh, Guilford! hide me, shield me from her sight; Every mad passion kindles up again,

Love, rage, despair--and yet I will be master-
I will remember theeOh, my torn heart!
I have a thousand things to say,

But cannot, dare not, stay to look on her.
Thus gloomy ghosts, where'er the breaking morn
Gives notice of the cheerful sun's return,
Fade at the light, with horror stand oppressed,
And shrink before the purple dawning east;
Swift with the fleeting shades they wing their way,
And dread the brightness of the rising day.

[Exeunt Guilford and Pembroke.

To bid our souls look out, explore hereafter, And seek some better sure abiding place; When all around our gathering foes come on, To drive, to sweep us from this world at once? Guil. Does any danger new

L. J. Gray. The faithless counsellors Are fled from hence to join the princess Mary. The servile herd of courtiers, who so late In low obedience bent the knee before me; They, who with zealous tongues, and hands uplifted,

Besought me to defend their laws and faith; Vent their lewd execrations on my name, Proclaim me traitress now, and to the scaffold Doom my devoted head.

Guil. The changeling villains!

That pray for slavery, fight for their bonds,
And shun the blessing, liberty, like ruin.
What art thou, human nature, to do thus?
Does fear of folly make thee, like the Indian,
Fall down before this dreadful devil, tyranny,
And worship the destroyer?

But wherefore do I loiter tamely here?
Give me my arms: I will preserve my country,
Even in her own despite. Some friends I have,
Who will or die or conquer in the cause,
Thine and religion's, thine and England's cause.
L. J. Gray. Art thou not all my treasure, all
my guard?

And wilt thou take from me the only joy,
The last defence is left me here below?
Think not thy arm can stein the driving torrent,
Or save a people, who with blinded rage
Urge their own fate, and strive to be undone.
Northumberland, thy father, is in arms;
And if it be in valour to defend us,

His sword, that long has known the way to conquest,

Shall be our surest safety.

Enter the Duke of SUFFOLK.

Suff. Oh, my children!

L. J. Gray. Alas! what means my father?
Suff. Oh, my son,

Thy father, great Northumberland, on whom
Our dearest hopes were built-

Guil. Ha! What of him?
Suff. Is lost! betrayed!

His army, onward as he marched, shrunk from him,

Mouldered away, and melted by his side;
Like falling hail thick strewn upon the ground,
Which, ere we can essay to count, is vanished.
With some few followers he arrived at Cam-
bridge;

But there even they forsook him, and himself
Was forced, with heavy heart and watery eye,
To cast his cap up, with dissembled cheer,
And cry, God save queen Mary! But, alas!
Little availed the seinblance of that loyalty:
For soon thereafter, by the earl of Arundel
With treason he was charged, and there arrested;

rising

And forming in the soul! Oh, judge me, thou,
If e'er ambition's guilty fires have warmed me,
If e'er my heart inclined to pride, to power,
Or joined in being a queen. I took the sceptre
To save this land, thy people, and thy altars:
And now, behold, I bend my grateful knee,
[Kneeling.

In humble adoration of that mercy,
Which quits me of the vast unequal task.

Enter the Duchess of SUFFOLK.

Duch. Suff. Nay, keep that posture still, and
let us join,

Fix all our knees by thine, lift up our hands,
And seek for help and pity from above;
For earth and faithless man will give us none !
L. J. Gray. What is the worst our cruel fate
ordains us?

Duch. Suff. Cursed be my fatal counsels, cursed

Nor shall the hand of violence profane thee,
Until my breast have borne a thousand wounds,
Till this torn mangled body sink at once,
A heap of purple ruin, at thy feet.

L. J. Gray. And could thy rash distracted rage do thus?

Draw thy vain sword against an armed multitude,
Only to have my poor heart split with horror,
To see thee stabbed and butchered here before me?
Oh, call thy better nobler courage to thee,
And let us meet this adverse fate with patience!
Greet our insulting foes with equal tempers,
With even brows, and souls secure of death;
Here stand unmoved; as once the Roman senate
Received fierce Brennus, and the conquering
Gauls,

Till even the rude barbarians stood amazed
At such superior virtue. Be thyself,
For see, the trial comes!

Enter SUSSEX, GARDINER, Officers and Soldiers. Suss. Guards, execute your orders; seize the traitors:

Here my commission ends. To you, my lord,

[To Gar.

So our great mistress, royal Mary, bids,
I leave the full disposal of these prisoners.
To your wise care the pious queen commends
Her sacred self, her crown, and, what's yet more,
The holy Roman church; for whose dear safety,
She wills your utmost diligence be shewn,
To bring rebellion to the bar of justice.
Yet farther, to proclaim how much she trusts
In Winchester's deep thought, and well tried
faith,

The seal attends to grace those reverend hands;
And when I next salute you, I must call you
Chief minister and chancellor of England.

Gar. Unnumbered blessings fall upon her head, My ever-gracious lady! to remember With such full bounty her old humble beadsman! For these, her foes, leave me to deal with them. Suss. The queen is on her entrance, and expects me:

My lord, farewell.

Oh, tyrant! but the task becomes thee well;
Thy savage temper joys to do death's office;
To tear the sacred bands of love asunder,
And part those hands which heaven itself hath
joined.

Duch. Suff. To let us waste the little rest of
life

Together, had been merciful.
Suff. Then it had not

Been done like Winchester.

Guil. Thou stand'st unmoved; Calm temper sits upon thy beauteous brow; Thy eyes, that flowed so fast for Edward's loss, Gaze unconcerned upon the ruin round thee; As if thou hadst resolved to brave thy fate, And triumph in the midst of desolation. Ha! see, it swells; the liquid crystal rises, It starts, in spite of thee,- -but I will catch it; Nor let the earth be wet with dew so rich.

L. J. Gray. And dost thou think, my Guilford,

I can see