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She seeks the safest shelter of the wood,
Where she may trust her little tuneful brood;
Where no rude swains her shady cell may know,
No serpents climb, nor blasting winds may blow;
Fond of the chosen place, she views it o'er,
Sits there, and wanders through the grove no more;
Warbling she charms it each returning night,
And loves it with a mother's dear delight. [Exeunt.
ACT III.

SCENE I.-The Court.
Enter ALICIA, with a paper.

Alic. This paper to the great protector's hand
With care and secresy must be convey'd :
His bold ambition now avows its aim,

To pluck the crown from Edward's infant brow,
And fix it on his own. I know he holds
My faithless Hastings adverse to his hopes,
And much devoted to the orphan king:
On that I build; this paper meets his doubts,
And marks my hated rival as the cause

Of Hastings' zeal for his dead master's sons.
Oh, jealousy! thou bane of pleasing friendship,
How does thy rancour poison all our softness,
And turn our gentle natures into bitterness!
See, where she comes! once my heart's dearest
blessing,

Now my chang'd'eyes are blasted with her beauty,
Loath that known face, and sicken to behold her.
Enter JANE SHORE.

Jane S. O, my Alicia!

Alic. What new grief is this?

What unforeseen misfortune has supris'd thee, That racks thy tender heart thus?

Jane S. O, Dumont !

Alic. Say, what of him?

Jane S. That friendly, honest man,

Whom Belmour brought of late to my assistance,
On whose kind care, whose diligence and faith,
My surest trust was built, this very morn
Was seiz'd on by the cruel hand of power,
Forc'd from my house, and borne away to prison.
Alic. To prison, said you? Can you guess the

cause?

Jane S. Too well, I fear, his bold defence of me Has drawn the vengeance of lord Hastings on him. Alic. Lord Hastings! ha!

Jane S. Some fitter time must tell thee
The tale of my hard hap. Upon the present
Hang all my poor, my last remaining hopes.
Within this paper is my suit contain'd;
Here as the princely Gloster passes forth,
I wait to give it on my humble knees,
And move him for redress.

(She gives the paper to Alicia, who opens and
seems to read it: Jane Shore retires.)

Alic. Now for a wile,

To sting my thoughtless rival to the heart;
To blast her fatal beauties, and divide her
For ever from my perjur'd Hastings' eyes:
Their fashions are the same, it cannot fail.

(Aside.-Pulling out the other Paper.) Jane S. (Advancing.) But see, the great protector comes this way. Give me the paper, friend." Alic. For love and vengeance!

(Aside. She gives her the other Paper.) Enter the DUKE of GLOSTER, SIR RICHARD RATCLIFF, CATESBY, Courtiers, and other Attendants. Jane S. (Kneeling.) O noble Gloster, turn thy gracious eye,

Incline thy pitying ear to my complaint;
A poor, undone, forsaken, helpless woman,
Entreats a little bread for charity,

To feed her wants, and save her life from perishing.
Glos. Arise, fair dame, and dry your wat'ry eyes.
(Receiving the paper, and raising her.)
Beshrew me, but 'twere pity of his heart

That could refuse a boon to such a suitress.
You've got a noble friend to be your advocate ;
A worthy and right gentle lord he is,
And to his trust most true. This present now
Some matters of the state detain our leisure;
Those once despatch'd, we'll call for you anon,
And give your griefs redress. Go to!-be comforted.
Jane S. Good heavens repay your highness for
this pity,

And show'r down blessings on your princely head!
Come, my Alicia, reach thy friendly arm,
And help me to support this feeble frame,
That nodding, totters with oppressive woe,
And sinks beneath its load.

[Exeunt Jane S. and Alic. Glos. Now, by my holidame! Heavy of heart she seems, and sore afflicted. But thus it is when rude calamity Lays its strong gripe upon these mincing minions; The dainty gew-gaw forms dissolve at once, And shiver at the shock. What says this paper? (Perusing it.) Ha! What is this? Come nearer, Ratcliffe! Catesby! Mark the contents, and then divine the meaning. (He reads.)

Wonder not, Princely Gloster, at the notice
This paper brings you from a friend unknown;
And kneel to Richard as to England's king;
Lord Hastings is inclin'd to call you master,
But Shore's bewitching wife misleads his heart,
And draws his service to king Edward's sons:
Drive her away, you break the charm that holds him,
And he, and all his powers, attend on you.
Sir R. 'Tis wonderful!

Cates. The means by which it came
Yet stranger too.

Glos. You saw it giv'n, but now.
Sir R. She could not know the purport.
Glos. No, 'tis plain

She knows it not, it levels at her life;

Should she presume to prate of such high matters,
The meddling harlot, dear she should abide it.
Cates. What hand so'er it comes from, be as-
It means your highness well.

Glos. Upon the instant,

[sur'd

Lord Hastings will be here; this morn I mean
To prove him to the quick; then, if he flinch,
No more but this,-away with him at once:
He must be mine or nothing.-But he comes!
Draw nearer this way, and observe me well.
(They whisper.)

Enter LORD HASTINGS.

Has. This foolish woman hangs about my heart, Lingers and wanders in my fancy still; This coyness is put on, 'tis art and cunning, And worn to urge desire;-I must possess her. The groom, who lift his saucy hand against me, Ere this, is humbled, and repents his daring. Perhaps, ev'n she may profit by th' example, And teach her beauty not to scorn my pow'r. Glos. This do, and wait me e'er the council sits. My lord, you're well encounter'd; here has been [Exeunt Ratcliffe and Catesby. A fair petitioner this morning with us; Believe me, she has won me much to pity her: To buffet with adversity. I told her Alas! her gentle nature was not made How worthily her cause you had befriended; How much for your good sake we meant to do, That you had spoke, and all things should be well. Has. Your highness binds me ever to your [with us,

service.

Glos. You know your friendship is most potent And shares our power. But of this enough, For we have other matters for your ear; The state is out of tune: distracting fears, And jealons doubts, jar in our public councils; Amidst the wealthy city, murmurs rise,

ACT IV. SCENE 1.]

Lewd railings, and reproach on those that rule,
With open scorn of government; hence credit,
And public trust 'twixt man and man, are broke;
The golden streams of commerce are withheld,
Which fed the wants of needy hinds and artizans,
Who, therefore, curse the great, and threat rebellion.
Has. The resty knaves are over-run with ease,
As plenty ever is the nurse of faction;

If in good days, like these, the headstrong herd
Grow madly wanton and repine, it is
Because the reins of power are held too slack,
And reverend authority, of late,

Has worn a face of mercy more than justice.

Glos. Beshrew my heart! but you have well divin'd

The source of these disorders.

Who can wonder
If riot and misrule o'erturn the realm,
When the crown sits upon a baby brow?
Plainly to speak, hence comes the gen'ral cry,
And sum of all complaint: 'twill ne'er be well
With England (thus they talk,) while children

govern.

[that?
Has. Tis true, the king is young: but what of
We feel no want of Edward's riper years,
While Gloster's valour, and most princely wisdom
So well support our infant sov'reign's place,
His youth's support, and guardian to his throne.
Glos. The council (much I'm bound to thank 'em
for't,)

Have plac'd a pageant sceptre in my hand,
Barren of pow'r, and subject to controul;
Scorn'd by my foes, and useless to my friends.
Oh, worthy lord! were mine the rule indeed,
I think I should not suffer rank offence
At large to lord it in the commonweal;
Nor would the realm be rent by discord thus,
Thus fear and doubt, betwixt disputed titles.
Has. Of this I am to learn; as not supposing
A doubt like this.

Glos. Ay, marry, but there is―
Have you not heard
And that of much concern.
How, on a late occasion, doctor Shaw

Has mov'd the people much about the lawfulness
Of Edward's issue? By right grave authority
Of learning and religion, plainly proving,

A bastard scion never should be grafted
Upon a royal stock; from thence at full
Discoursing on my brother's former contract
To lady Elizabeth Lucy, long before

His jolly match with that same buxom widow,
The queen he left behind him—

Has. Ill befall

Such meddling priests, who kindle up confusion,
And vex the quiet world with their vain scruples!
By heav'n, 'tis done in perfect spite to peace.
Did not the king,

Our royal master, Edward, in concurrence
With his estates assembled, well determine
What course the sov'reign rule should take hence-
forward?

When shall the deadly hate of faction cease?
When shall our long-divided land have rest,
If every peevish, moody malcontent,
Shall set the senseless rabble in an uproar?
Fright them with dangers, and perplex their brains,
Each day with some fantastic giddy change?

Glos. What if some patriot, for the public good,
Should vary from your scheme,new-mould the state?
Has. Curse on the innovating hand attempts it!
Remember him, the villain, righteous heaven,
In thy great day of vengeance! blast the traitor
And his pernicious counsels; who, for wealth,
For pow'r, the pride of greatness, or revenge,
Would plunge his native land in civil wars!

Glos. You go too far, my lord.
Has. Your highness' pardon.-
Have we so soon forgot those days of ruin,
When York and Lancaster drew forth their battles;
When, like a matron butcher'd by her sons,

Our groaning country bled at every vein:
When murders, rapes, and massacres prevail'd; >
When churches, palaces, and cities blaz'd;
When insolence and barbarism triumph'd,
And swept away distinction: peasants trod
Upon the necks of nobles: low were laid
The reverend crosier and the holy mitre,
And desolation covered all the land?
Who can remember this, and not, like me,
Here vow to sheath a dagger in his heart,
Whose damn'd ambition would renew those horrors,
And set once more that scene of blood before us?
Glos. How now? so hot!

Has. So brave, and so resolv'd.

Glos. Is then our friendship of so little moment,
That you could arm your hand against my life?
Has.I hope your highness does not think I mean it;
No, heaven forfend that e'er your princely person
scope of my resentment.
Should come within the
Glos. O noble Hastings! Nay, I must embrace
(Embraces him.)
you;

By holy Paul, you're a right honest man!
The time is full of danger and distrust,
And warns us to be wary. Hold me not
Too apt for jealousy and light surmise,
If, when I meant to lodge you next my heart,
I put your truth to trial. Keep your loyalty,
And live your king and country's best support:
For me, I ask no more than honour gives,
To think me your's, and rank me with your friends.
[Exit.

Has. I am not read,

Nor skill'd and practis'd in the arts of greatness,
To kindle thus, and give a scope to passion.
The duke is surely noble; but he touch'd me
Ev'n on the tend 'rest point; the master-string
That makes most harmony or discord to me.
I own the glorious subject fires my breast,
And my soul's darling passion stands confess'd;
Beyond or love's or friendship's sacred band,
Beyond myself, I prize my native land :
On this foundation would I build my fame,
And emulate the Greek and Roman name; [blood,
Think England's peace bought cheaply with my
And die with pleasure for my country's good. [Exit.

ACT IV.

SCENE I.-The same.

Enter DUKE of GLOSTER, RATCLIFFE, and CATESBY.
Glos. This was the sum of all: that he would brook
No alteration in the present state.

Marry, at last, the testy gentleman
Was almost mov'd to bid us bold defiance:
But there I dropp'd the argument, and changing
The first design and purport of my speech,
I prais'd his good affection to young Edward,
And left him to believe my thoughts like his.
Proceed we then in this fore-mentioned matter,
As nothing bound or trusting to his friendship.

Sir R. Ill does it thus befal. I could have wish'd
This lord had stood with us.

His name had been of 'vantage to your highness,
And stood our present purpose much in stead.

[as,

Glos. This wayward and perverse declining from
Which we this morn receiv'd. I hold it certain,
Has warranted at full the friendly notice,
This puling, whining harlot rules his reason,
Cates. If she have such dominion o'er his heart,
And prompts his zeal for Edward's bastard brood.
And turn it at her will, you rule her fate;
And should, by inference and apt deduction,
Be arbiter of his. Is not her bread,
The very means immediate to her being,
The bounty of your hand? Why does she live,
If not to yield obedience to your pleasure,
To speak, to act, to think as you command?

Sir R. Let her instruct her tongue to bear your

message;

Teach every grace to smile in your behalf,

And her deluded eyes to gloat for you;
His ductile reason will be wound about,
Be led and turn'd again, say and unsay,
Receive the yoke, and yield exact obedience.
Glos. Your counsel likes me well; it shall be fol-
She waits without, attending on her suit: [low'd;
Go, call her in, and leave us here alone.

[Exeunt Ratcliffe and Catesby.
How poor a thing is he, how worthy scorn,
Who leaves the guidance of imperial manhood
To such a paltry piece of stuff as this is!
A moppet made of prettiness and pride;
That oftener does her giddy fancies change,
Than glittering dew-drops in the sun do colours.
Now, shame upon it! was our reason given
For such a use? To be thus puff'd about. [them,
Sure there is something more than witchcraft in
That masters e'en the wisest of us all.

Enter JANE Shore.

Oh! you are come most fitly. We have ponder'd
On this your grievance: and though some there are,
Nay, and those great ones too, who would enforce
The rigour of our power to afflict you,
And bear a heavy hand; yet fear not you :
We've ta'en you to our favour; our protection
Shall stand between, and shield you from mishap.
Jane S. The blessings of a heart, with anguish
broken,

And rescu'd from despair, attend your highness.
Alas! my gracious lord, what have I done
To kindle such relentless wrath against me?
Glos. Marry, there are, though I believe them not,
Who say you meddle in affairs of state :
That you presume to prattle like a busy-body,
Give your advice, and teach the lords of the council
What fits the order of the commonweal.

Jane S. Oh, that the busy world, at least in this,
Would take example from a wretch like me!
None then would waste their hours in foreign
thoughts,

Forget themselves, and what concerns their peace,
To search, with prying eyes, for faults abroad,
If all, like me, consider'd their own hearts,
And wept their sorrows which they found at home.
Glos. Go to; I know your pow'r; and though I

trust not

To ev'ry breath of fame, I'm not to learn
That Hastings is profess'd your loving vassal.
But fair befal your beauty: use it wisely,
And it may stand your fortunes much in stead,
Give back your forfeit land with large increase,
And place you high in safety and in honour.
Nay, I could point a way, the which pursuing,
You shall not only bring yourself advantage,
But give the realm much worthy cause to thank you.
Jane S. Oh! where or how can my unworthy
Become an instrument of good to any?
Instruct your lowly slave; and let me fly
To yield obedience to your dread command.
Glos. Why, that's well said;-Thus then,-ob-
serve me well.

The state, for many high and potent reasons,
Deeming my brother Edward's sons unfit
For the imperial weight of England's crown-
Jane S. Alas, for pity!

Glos. Therefore have resolv'd

To set aside their unavailing infancy,
And vest the sov'reign rule in abler hands.

[hand

This, though of great importance to the public,
Hastings, for very peevishness and spleen,
Does stubbornly oppose.

Jane S. Does he? Does Hastings?
Glos. Ay, Hastings.

[heav'ns:

Jane S. Reward him for the noble deed, just For this one action guard him and distinguish him With signal mercies, and with great deliverance; Save him from wrong, adversity, and shame; Let never fading honours flourish round him, And consecrate his name, ev'n to time's end.

Glos. How now! Jane S. The poor, forsaken, royal little ones! Shall they be left a prey to savage power? Can they lift up their harmless hands in vain, Or cry to heaven for help, and not be heard? Impossible! O gallant. generous Hastings, Go on, pursue, assert the sacred cause! Stand forth, thou proxy of all-ruling Providence, And save the friendless infants from oppression. Saints shall assist thee with prevailing prayers, And warring angels combat on thy side. [speech, Glos. You're passing rich in this same heav'nly And spend it at your pleasure. Nay, but mark me! My favour is not bought with words like these.

Go

to:-You'll teach your tongue another tale. [me, Jane S. No, though the royal Edward has undone He was my king, my gracious master still; He lov'd me too, though 'twas a guilty flame; And can I-(O my heart abhors the thought!) Stand by and see his children robb'd of right?"

Glos. Dare not, ev'n for thy soul, to thwart me further!

None of your arts, your feigning, and your foolery ;
Your dainty squeamish coying it to me;
Go-to your lord, your paramour, be gone!
Lisp in his ear, hang wanton on his neck,
And play your monkey gambols o'er to him.
You know my purpose, look that you pursue it,
And make him yield obedience to my will,
Do it, or woe upon the harlot's head. [speech,
Jane S. Oh that my tongue had every grace of
Great and commanding, as the breath of kings ;-
That I had heart and eloquence divine,
To pay my duty to my master's ashes,
And plead, till death, the cause of injur'd innocence.
Glos. Ha! Dost thou brave me, minion? Dost

thou know

[thee? How vile, how very a wretch, my pow'r can make That I can place thee in such abject state, As help shall never find thee; where, repining, Thou shalt sit down and gnaw the earth for anguish ; Groan to the pitiless winds without return: Howl, like the midnight wolf amidst the desert, And curse thy life, in bitterness and misery!

Jane S. Let me be branded for the public scorn, Turn'd forth and driv'n to wander like a vagabond, Be friendless and forsaken, seek my bread Upon the barren wild and desolate waste, Feed on my sighs, and drink my falling tears, Ere I consent to teach my lips injustice, Or wrong the orphan, who has none to save him. Glos. "Tis well-we'll try the temper of your What, hoa! Who waits without? [heart.

Enter RATCLIFFE, CATESBY, and Attendants.
Glos. Go, some of you, and turn this strumpet
forth!

Spurn her into the street; there let her perish,
And rot upon a dunghill. Through the city
See it proclaim'd, that none, on pain of death,
Presume to give her comfort, food, or harbour;
Who ministers the smallest comfort, dies.
Her house, her costly furniture and wealth,
We seize on, for the profit of the state.
Away! Be gone!

Jane S. Oh, thou most righteous Judge-
Humbly, behold, I bow myself to thee, (kneels.)
And own thy justice in this hard decree :
No longer, then, my ripe offences spare,
But what I merit, let me learn to bear.
Yet, since 'tis all my wretchedness can give,
For my past crimes my forfeit life receive;
(They raise her.)
No pity for my sufferings here I crave,
And only hope forgiveness in the grave.

[Exit Jane Shore, guarded by Catesby. Glos. So much for this. Your project's at an end. (To Sir Richard.) This idle toy, this hilding, scorns my power,

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SCENE II.-The Council Chamber. The DUKE of BUCKINGHAM, EARL of DERBY, BISHOP of ELY, LORD HASTINGS, and others, discovered in Council. The DUKE of GLOSTER enters, and takes his place at the upper end.

Der. In happy times we are assembled here,
T'appoint the day, and fix the solemn pomp
For placing England's crown, with all due rites,
Upon our sovereign Edward's youthful brow.
Lord H. Some busy, meddling knaves, 'tis said
there are,

As such will still be prating, who presume
To carp and cavil at his royal right;
Therefore, I hold it fitting, with the soonest,
T'appoint the order of the coronation:
So to approve our duty to the king,

And stay the babbling of such vain gainsayers.
Der. We all attend to know your highness'
pleasure.
(To Gloster.)
Glos. My lords, a set of worthy men you are,
Prudent and just, and careful for the state;
Therefore, to your most grave determination
I yield myself in all things; and demand
What punishment your wisdom shall think meet
Tinflict upon those damnable contrivers, [drugs,
Who shall with potions, charms, and witching
Practise against our person and our life! [debtor,
Has. So much I hold the king your highness'
So precious are you to the commonweal,
That I presume, not only for myself,
But in behalf of these my noble brothers,
say, whoe'er they be, they merit death.
Glos. Then judge, yourselves, convince
eyes of truth:

To

your

Behold my arm, thus blasted, dry, and wither'd,
(Pulling up his sleeve.)
Shrunk like a foul abortion, and decay'd,
Like some untimely product of the seasons,
Robb'd of its properties of strength and office!
This is the sorcery of Edward's wife,
Who, in conjunction with that harlot Shore,
And other like confederate midnight hags,
By force of potent spells, of bloody characters,
And conjurations horrible to hear,

Call fiends and spectres from the yawning deep,
And set the ministers of hell at work,
To torture and despoil me of my life.
Has. If they have done this deed-
Glos. If they have done it!
Talk'st thou to me of ifs, audacious traitor!
Thou art that strumpet witch's chief abettor,
The patron and complotter of her mischiefs,
And join'd in this contrivance for my death.
Nay, start not, lords.-What ho! a guard there, sirs!
Enter Guards.

Lord Hastings, I arrest thee of high treason;
Seize him, and bear him instantly away.
He sha' not live an hour. By holy Paul,
will not dine before his head be brought me.
Ratcliffe, stay you, and see that it be done:
The rest that love me, rise and follow me.

[Exeunt Gloster, the Lords following.

Manet LORD HASTINGS, SIR RICHARD RATCLIFFE, and Guards.

Has. What! and no more but this!-How! to

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Therefore, my lord, address you to your shrift, With all good speed you may. Summon your courage,

And be yourself; for you must die this instant.
Has. Yes, Ratcliff, I will take thy friendly counsel.
And die as a man should; 'tis somewhat hard,
To call my scatter'd spirits home at once:
But since what must be, must be ;-let necessity
Supply the place of time and preparation,
And arm me for the blow. 'Tis but to die,
"Tis but to venture on the common hazard,
Which many a time in battle I have run;
'Tis but to close my eyes and shut out day-light,
To view no more the wicked ways of men;
No longer to behold the tyrant Gloster,
And be a weeping witness of the woes,
The desolation, slaughter, and calamities,
Which he shall bring on this unhappy land.
Enter ALICIA.

Alic. Stand off, and let me pass: I will, I must
Catch him once more in these despairing arms,
And hold him to my heart. O Hastings! Hastings!

Has. Alas! why com'st thou at this dreadful moTo fill me with new terrors, new distractions; [ment, To turn me wild with thy distemper'd rage, And shock the peace of my departing soul? Away! I pr'ythee, leave me!

Alic. Stop a minute

Till my full griefs find passage: O the tyrant!
Perdition fall on Gloster's head and mine!
Has. What means thy frantic grief?
Alic. I cannot speak-

But I have murder'd thee ;-Oh, I conld tell thee-
Has. Speak, and give ease to thy conflicting pas-
Be quick, nor keep me longer in suspense; [sion!
Time presses, and a thousand crowding thoughts
Break in at once;-this way and that they snatch,
They tear my hurried soul: all claim attention,
And yet not one is heard. Oh! speak, and leave me,
For I have business would employ an age,
And but a minute's time to get it done in.

[on,

Alic. That-that's my grief: 'tis I that urge thee Thus hunt thee to the toil, sweep thee from earth, And drive thee down this precipice of fate. [hand Has. Thy reason is grown wild. Could thy weak Bring on this mighty ruin? If it could, What have I done so grievous to thy soul, So deadly, so beyond the reach of pardon, That nothing but my life can make atonement? Alic. Thy cruel scorn hath stung me to the heart, And set my burning bosom all in flames: Raving and mad I flew to my revenge, And writ I knew not what ;-told the protector, That Shore's detested wife, by wiles, had won thee To plot against his greatness. He believ'd it, (Oh, dire event of my pernicious counsel!) And, while I meant destruction on her head, He has turn'd it all on thine.

Has. O thou inhuman! turn thine eyes away, And blast me not with their destructive beams: Why should I curse thee with my dying breath? Be gone! and let me die in peace.

Alic. Canst thou, O cruel Hastings, leave me thus ? Hear me, I beg thee!-I conjure thee, hear me ! While, with an agonizing heart, I swear, By all the pangs I feel, by all the sorrows, The terrors and despair thy loss shall give me, My hate was on my rival bent alone. Oh! had I once divin'd, false as thou art, A danger to thy life, I would have diedI would have met it for thee.

[award:

Has. Now mark! and tremble at heav'n's just While thy insatiate wrath and fell revenge, Pursu'd the innocence which never wrong'd thee, Behold the mischief falls on thee and me: Remorse and heaviness of heart shall wait thee, And everlasting anguish be thy portion: For me, the snares of death are wound about me,

And now, in one poor moment, I am gone.
Oh! if thou hast one tender thought remaining,
Fly to thy closet, fall upon thy kuees,
And recommend my parting soul to mercy.

Alic. Oh! yet before I go for ever from thee,
Turn thee in gentleness and pity to me, (Kneeling.)
And, in compassion of my strong affliction,
Say, is it possible you can forgive
The fatal rashness of ungovern'd love?
For, oh! 'tis certain, if I had not lov'd thee
Beyond my peace, my reason, fame, and life,
This day of horror never would have known us.
Hast. Oh, rise, and let me hush thy stormy
sorrows. (Raising her.)

Assuage thy tears, for I will chide no more,
No more upbraid thee, thou unhappy fair one.
I see the hand of heav'n is arm'd against me;
And, in mysterious providence, decrees
To punish me by thy mistaken hand.

Tear her poor bosom, rend her frantic hair,
And prove the torments of the last despair. [Exit.
ACT V-SCENE I.-A Street.
Enter BELMOUR and DUMONT.

Dum. You saw her, then?

Bel. I met her, as returning,
In solemn penance from the public cross.
Before her, certain rascal officers,

Slaves in authority, the knaves of justice,
Proclaim'd the tyrant Gloster's cruel orders.
Around her, numberless, the rabble flow'd,
Should'ring each other, crowding for a view,
Gaping and gazing, taunting and reviling;
Some pitying, but those, alas! how few!
The most, such iron hearts we are, and such
The base barbarity of human kind,

With insolence and lewd reproach pursu'd her,
Hooting and railing, and with villainous hands

Most righteous doom! for, ob, while I behold thee, Gath'ring the filth from out the common ways,

Thy wrongs rise up in terrible array,
And charge thy ruin on me; thy fair fame,
Thy spotless beauty, innocence, and youth,
Dishonour'd, blasted, and betray'd by me.
Alic. And does thy heart relent for my undoing?
Oh! that inhuman Gloster could be mov'd,
But half so easily as I can pardon.

(Catesby enters, and whispers Ratcliffe.)
Has. Here, then, exchange we mutual forgive-
So may the guilt of all my broken vows, [ness:
My perjuries to thee, be all forgotten,
As here my soul acquits thee of my death,
As here I part without one angry thought,
As here I leave thee with the softest tenderness,
Mourning the chance of our disastrous loves,
And begging heav'n to bless and to support thee.
Sir R. My lord, despatch; the duke has sent to
For loitering in my duty-
[chide me,

Has. I obey.

Alic. Insatiate, savage monster! Is a moment
So tedious to thy malice? Oh, repay him,
Thou great Avenger! Give him blood for blood:
Guilt haunt him! fiends pursue him! lightnings
That he may know how terrible it is [blast him!
To want that moment he denies thee now.

Has. This rage is all in vain, that tears thy bosom:
Retire, I beg thee;

To see thee thus, thou know'st not how it wounds
Thy agonies are added to my own,

[me;

And make the burden more than I can bear.
Farewell-good angels visit thy afflictions,
And bring thee peace and comfort from above. [Exit.
Alic. Oh! stab me to the heart, some pitying
Now strike me dead.
[hand,

Re-enter LORD HASTINGS.

Has. One thing I had forgot;—

I charge thee, by our present common miseries;
By our past loves, if they have yet a name;
By all thy hopes of peace here and hereafter,
Let not the rancour of thy hate pursue
The innocence of thy unhappy friend; [wrong her,
Thou know'st who 'tis I mean: Oh! shouldst thou
Just heav'n shall double all thy woes upon thee,
And make 'em know no end ;-remember this,
As the last warning of a dying man.
Farewell, for ever! (The Guards carry Hastings off.)
Alic. For ever! Oh, for ever!
Oh, who can bear to be a wretch for ever?
My rival, too! His last thoughts hung on her,
And, as he parted, left a blessing for her;
Shall she be blest, and I be curst, for ever;
No; since her fatal beauty was the cause
Of all my suff'rings, let her share my pains;
Let her, like me, of ev'ry joy forlorn,
Devote the hour when such a wretch was born;
Cast ev'ry good, and ev'ry hope behind;
Detest the works of nature, loathe mankind:
Like me, with cries distracted, fill the air,

To hurl upon her head.
Dum. Inhuman dogs!
How did she bear it?

Bel. With the gentlest patience;
Submissive, sad, and lowly was her look;
A burning taper in her hand she bore,
And on her shoulders, carelessly confus'd,
With loose neglect, her lovely tresses hung;
Upon her cheek a faintish blush was spread;
Feeble she seem'd, and sorely smit with pain;
While barefoot as she trod the flinty pavement,
Her footsteps all along were mark'd with blood.
Yet, silent still she pass'd, and unrepining;
Her streaming eyes bent ever on the earth,
Except when in some bitter pang of sorrow,
To heav'n she seem'd in fervent zeal to raise,
And beg that mercy man deny'd her here.
Dum. When was this piteous sight?
Bel. These last two days,

You know my care was wholly bent on you,
To find the happy means of your deliverance,
Which, but for Hastings' death, I had not gain'd.
During that time, although I have not seen her,
Yet divers trusty messengers I've sent,
To wait about, and watch a fit convenience
To give her some relief, but all in vain ;
A churlish guard attends upon her steps,
Who menace those with death, that bring her com-
And drive all succour from her.
Dùm. Let’em threaten ;

[fort,

Let proud oppression prove its fiercest malice;
So heav'n befriend my soul, as here I vow
To give her help, and share one fortune with her.
Bel. Mean you to see her thus, in your own form?
Dum. I do.

Bel. And have you thought upon the consequence?
Dum. What is there I should fear?

Bel. Have you examin'd

Into your inmost heart, and try'd at leisure
The sev'ral secret springs that move the passions?
Has mercy fix'd her empire there so sure,
That wrath and vengeance never may return?
Can yon resume a husband's name, and bid
That wakeful dragon, fierce resentment, sleep?
Dum. O thou hast set my busy brain at work,
And now she musters up a train of images,
Which, to preserve my peace, I had cast aside,
And sunk in deep oblivion.-Ob, that form!
That angel face on which my dotage hung!
How I have gaz'd upon her, till my soul
With very eagerness went forth towards her,
And issu'd at my eyes.-Was there a gem
Which the sun ripens in the Indian mine,
Or the rich bosom of the ocean yields?
What was there art could make, or wealth could
Which I have left unsought to deck her beauty?
What could her king do more?-And yet she fled.
Bel. Away with that sad fancy.
Dum. Oh, that day!

[buy,

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