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Tho' 'tis a poor difconfolate abode:

For ftill they wait with pleasure on their Queen,
Proud to participate in all her woes:

But thefe are fentiments thou canst not feel.
Go, afk your mistress, whether fuch a train
Is all too proud to attend upon the Crowns
Of France and Scotland? afk what retinue
I fhou'd have deem'd becoming her estate
With me, at Paris, or at Holyrood?
Hunt. Those days are paft-

words,

without more idle

There's one condition, and but one, by which
You may be nobly entertain'd, and have
All freedom and refpect-Give up your Crown;
Confirm Earl Murray Regent; and refide
In England with your Son

Mary. No more! perform

The part that fuits thee, jailor!-Thou lack'st wit
To tempt me to refign my native Crown;
To facrifice at once myself, and fon;
And, make the world believe I own her charge.
No! I prefer her dungeons-Death itself.

Hunt. Then be it fo! Attendants follow me;
Leave her to ruminate in folitude.

[Exit Shrewsbury and Huntingdon with the attendants following reluctantly.

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Give up my Crown; my fon; fupport my foe,
My mortal, bafe, unnatural enemy.

Tis a plain challenge to a Queen-Refign
All fenfe of honour, claims of birth, all thoughts

• Of eminence in early youth imbib'd,

And grown habitual, to thofe whom chance
Has in derifion deck'd with mortal crowns;

• Or elfe prepare, and fummon fortitude

To brave the threats of power, the taunts, the fcorn,
The worst indignities that envy breeds;

That bittereft produce of the meanest plant
That grows in mortal breafts-Perhaps ftill more;"

Perhaps her iron hand may rend these limbs;
This cruel wretch, this Huntingdon, is fent
To view my torments with unalter'd eyes;
To fit, prefide, direct the torturer's knife,
Glutting his greedy foul with fcenes of blood,
While dying thrieks are mufic to his ears.
'Tis hard for female spirits to bear up,

• And stand the fiery trial-Ah! who's that?
Spare me !

Enter NORFOLK in Disguise.

Nor. Oh, fear me not, my life! 'tis I; 'Tis Norfolk at your feet.

Mary. Oh, Heavens! once more
Save my poor intellects! Oh, Norfolk, oh!
My guardian angel! How fhall I relate
All that befel me fince? Yet rather say,

How have you 'feap'd the jaws of that fell tygrefs!
How got you hither?

Nor. By the gift you gave;

Your token known, they traight conducted me,
By fecret ways, thro' thefe old walls, and thus
Thefe eyes at once are dazzled with a fight
Dangerous to look on

Mary Danger is no more

When my brave Norfolk's come; we'll talk of love, Of future blifs, and paint gay fcenes of joy, Counting our happy days before their time.

Nor. Alas! that's all, I fear, we e'er can hope. Mary. Let not your noble spirit. Norfolk, fail! Nor. Spirit will fail when reafon cannot hope. Mary Norfolk cannot despond in Mary's caufe. Nor. Oh, think no more of fuch a worthlefs wretch; A bafe, mean villain, traitor to my Queen.

Mary. Is love for me fuch treason in her fight? Nor. My treafon is not 'gainft my lawful Queen, But again her, to whom I'm bound by ties. Dearer than dull cold duty

Mary. Mean you me?

Doubtless you made confeffion of your love;

Was that a treason against me? 'twas great,
Worthy yourself; magnanimous to fcorn.
Her utmost rage, and brave her dire revenge.

NORFOLK, [Afide.]

How fhall I wound her gen'rous, noble heart?
Her, whofe pure mind, whofe unfufpicious thoughts
Dress up my fins in virtuous robes; thereby
But making them more hideous in my fight;
And me more hateful to myfelf.'-Oh, fool!
That cou'd be brought to purchase this vile life,
By quitting all that's dear to me on earth!

Mary. What do I hear? Oh, fay not fo, my love! You are not capable of fuch a thought.

Nor. Alas! I've pledg'd my word; I've fworn to it. Mary. Extorted vows are void, mere idle breath. Nor. Mine have not been so hitherto

A facred oath

Mary. Had I no oath from you?

NORFOLK, [Afide.]

an oath,

Ah! there's the dreadful maze, the double road,
Where each path leads to ruin and difgrace.
Mary. Oh, Norfolk, do not leave me! do not for.
fake

Your poor, forlorn, and faithful prifoner;
Already loft to all the world but thee;
My only comfort, refuge under Heav'n.
Oh, 'twou'd belie the tenor of your life:
What wou'd I not for thee? Let all the Kings.
The rival Princes that have woo'd in vain,
Here in my prifon recommence their fuit,
Wou'd I not fpurn them all for thee? Yet fly;
I'm loft; but you are born to better fates.

NORFOLK,

[Afide.] Be firm, my foul! Oh, torture!

Mary. Cruel man!

To caft me off becaufe I'm here confin'd:
What fent me hither but my love for thee?
When laft I faw you, then you were a man,
Replete with courage, gentleness, and love.

What have I done to change your nature thus;
If I'm in fault, ftrike at this wretched heart;
Let it not break! Or leave me to my fate,
To chains and dungeons, infults and hard words;
Let favage Huntington difmifs my train-

Nor. The horror of my crimes comes thick upon

me.

Cou'd I then leave thee thus, a prey to grief;
The sport of ruffian tongues? Why did not Heav'n
Blaft with its lightning, and benumb thefe limbs,
So flow in itriving to break ope the gates
Of this accurfed cell? Oh, foul difgrace!
Where fhall I 'fcape the pointing hand of fhame!
Here let me fue for pardon-All I afk,

Is to devote my life to rescue thee;

To ftem the torrent, and oppofe the flood,
Defy the deluge of o'erwhelming fate,

And fnatch thee from the waves of mifery.

Mary. Are you then fill my Norfolk? Do I dream? Nor. No, while there's life in this poor frame, and while

Mary. Enough, my Norfolk! I am the debtor now: Your noble refolution doth restore

The genial current of my frozen blood;

The blood of many hundred Kings doth rife
To chace defpondency, and fwell my foul

With thoughts of nobler deeds, and times to come.
Mary fhall once more triumph in her turn.

Nor. Then farewel, beautiful and injur'd faint!
Good angels hover round this dark abode,
And guard you till the cries of honour's voice
Shake thefe old battlements, and rend this roof;

Burft wide thefe bars, and once more charm the world
With radiant light of matchlefs beauty's beams.
Adieu, my love!

Mary. Remember me-Farewel!

A C T IV.

SCENE I.

WHITEHALL.

Enter ELIZABETH and CECIL.

CECIL

ELIZABETH.

ECIL! what more? the Duke, you fay, is fecur'd.

Cecil. Aye! beyond 'fcape, my liege !-He's on his

way;

Perhaps has reach'd the Tower.

Eliz.

Your interceffion for that liberty

Which prov'd his bane.

Cecil.

Sir, he may thank

Reproaches from my Queen,

Heav'n favours none

So juft, like the chastisement of Heav'n

On thofe it favours.

Eliz.

But thofe that fee their errors, and repent

Cecil. If I repent me not the part I took,

May I be fharer in his punishment.

Eliz. We know your faith; 'twas error we're convinc'd;

Let affiduity atone for it;

Probe this infernal plot.

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This train of correfpondence, 'twixt the Duke,
The Pope, the Queen of Scots.

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Cecil, my foes are numerous and strong.

Cecil. Were they in number as the fummer leaves, Their autumn doth approach; they foon fhall fall, Blafted, and driven by the wind.

Eliz.

This day.

One falls at least; this faithless Lord no more

Shall dupe me with his promifes; let him

Await his doom- yet flay! his birth and name-

E.

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