Cecil. Are but fresh motives for example fake.
Eliz. Then be it fo.

• Cecil.

And her Ambaffador,

Who wou'd have forc'd the Tower, and feized yourself!

Eliz. That must be nicely weighed; for fove. reignty,

Aye, but the fhadow of it, claims regard : 'Tis not for us to extinguish hastily

• That emanation from the royal light;

Altho' the fource from whence it fprings may feem • Somewhat obfcure and clouded

• Cecil.

But if threats

• Produce confeffion, we may learn to guard 'Gainst farther harm.'

Nay, he anticipates my inmoft thoughts.

[Exit Cecil.

Th' ambitious Duke's difpos'd of; fuch half plac'd,
Soft, fcrupulous fools, make poor confpirators.
Mary yet lives: but for the Ambaffadors,

I fhou'd have fent her crofs the Tweed ere now,
To Murray's care: I wou'd it had been done
When first fhe threw herself into my hands;
It seem'd a confummation of fuccefs,
A period to my cares: but now this prize,
This precious prize, fo unexpectedly.
Entangled in my toils, proves a fierce fnake
Which I can neither fafely hold, or loofe;
While yet I have her in my grafp, fhe flips,
Twining her folds around my limbs-Alas!
I live in fear of my own prifoner,

And tremble on my Throne.

[Exit Eliz.

SCENE II. Enter DAVISON to CECIL:

Dav. The fatal order's fent; e'en now the Duke Prepares for death.

Cecil.

Oh, Davifon! these times

Demand dispatch? patience muft have its bounds,
To dangerous weakness.

Dav.

Yet the piteous fall

Of this beloved, generous Duke, will rend
The hearts of all his countrymen: the streets
Are throng'd with weeping multitudes; and groans
Betray more deep-felt forrow than the tongue
Dares, in thefe days, to utter.

Cecil.

Such esteem,

And general fympathy, denote his fway

And empire o'er the affections of the land;
And fhou'd have ferved to other ends than ftrife,
For the romantic honour and renown

Of liberating helplefs captive Queens.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III. The Tower.

NORFOLK and the LIEUTENANT difcovered.

Nor. No, good Lieutenant; I am at a point,
The very point, and fummit of my path,

Up life's fleep rough ascent; and now must leap
The dreadful precipice.

Lieut.

Yet ftill my Lord,

There's room for mercy; and if fame fpeaks true, Good caufe for it. 'Tis faid your Grace did save Her Majesty's own perfon from affault.

Nor. As I'm a Christian man, and doom'd to die, 'Tis true; and never have I aught devis'd Against her facred felf: but 'tis in vain

To fue for mercy; nor is it my wish

To ask that mercy which I've once abus'd.
Cou'd I but, during this fad interval,

Cou'd I but fend one

[Enter a fervant delivering a paper to the Lieutenant.]

Alas!

Ha! what's that I fee?

Nor. Enough! I read it in your looks:

Lieut.

My Lord, the guards attend.

Enter Sheriff and Guards.

Nor. I am content, thank Heav'n, to meet my fate, Not from indifference to life, or claim

To innocence; far otherwife in both:
But knowing mercy's infinite extent,

I caft the world behind me-One farewel!
And then-

Sher. My Lord, in truth, we may not wait.
Nor. I go-and, good Lieutenant, tell the Queen
That he who lately stood in highest rank,
(Now funk below the meaneft citizen)

Tho' he's pronounc'd a traitor by his Peers,
Whom yet he blames not, ftill appeals to Heav'n
In his last moments, that there lives not one
More true to his religion, country, Queen,
Than dying Thomas Howard-Then implore
Her kind compaffion to my orphan babes.
Say that my dying words were, "Peace be with her!"
And as I am the firft to fall by the axe,

So may I be the last, in her blest reign!
May the do juftice, and protect th' opprefs'd!
So may her fame reach all poflerity!

And by her hand, do thou, oh, gracious Heav'n !
Build up the walls of England!

Sher.

Alas! My Lord!

Delay is at our peril, we beseech

Nor. A little moment! I had fomething yetBut let it pafs! here! here it refts; while yet Life's current flows, while yet my nerves perform Their functions-Mary! I must think on thee! Blefs thee with my last breath: may Heav'n afford That fuccour which this mortal arm in vain Attempted! may it thou never feel fuch pangs As he who dies for thee! and now, e'en now, Flies with impatience from this hell to feek A refuge in the cold embrace of death.bread on! --Oh, Mary! Mary! Mary!

SCENE IV. WHITEHALL.

Enter ELIZABETH and CECIL.

Eliz. Cecil! our laft commands have been per form'd ?

Cecil. Madam, they have.

Eliz. And how behav'd the Duke?

Cecil. With manly, decent conftancy; and feem'd
Moft penitent in that he broke his word;
But ftill difclaiming fully all defigns

Against your crown and perfon; at the laft,
His parting foul feem'd bent on his own fate
Lefs than on Mary's--

Eliz. [afide.] How! how's this! intent
On her at lalt? muft her attractions reach
E'en to the very brink of death? alas!
That each progreffive circumftance of woe,
Tends but to prove the power of her charms.
Cecil. Her minifter, the Bishop, hath confefs'd
His fhare of guilt, and open'd all the plot
• 'Twixt him and Alva-Philip and the Pope.
Eliz. Then bid him inftantly depart my realm
If he beholds to-morrow's fetting fun

On English ground, his privilege is gone,
He dies a traitor's death-and from his Queen,
No more ambaffadors I'll entertain;

• Or risk my life to grace my prifoner.

Cecil. The French King's minifter, of late, is grown

Importunate for fresh indulgences;

That she may be allowed to take the air,

With fit attire and decent retinue;

All this is afk'd of grace; not as a part
Of Anjou's marriage treaty.

Eliz. If that ferve

T'amuse and hood-wink France, fhe'll think no

· more

On Mary.'-Davifon! what brings thee thus?

Enter DAVISON.

Dav. Dispatches from your Minifter in France.
Eliz. Of weighty matter?

Dav. Heavier far, and worfe

Than mortal ears can bear; Heav'n guard us all
From fuch difafters as no tongue can tell?
A vifitation which the world, till now,

Ne'er faw or heard of.

Eliz. Speak! no more delay.

Dav. Then hear the fate of all our friends in
France,

Swept from the face of the earth, exterminate,
In one black night, at one infernal blow

Dealt by the hand of Rome; there fcarcely lives
A proteftant to tell the maffacre,

Eliz. and Cecil. The massacre

Dav. I faid the word: the tale

Runs thus:-That fignals from the Louvre top
Proclaim'd the time of flaughter; Paris first,
And 'tis fuppos'd, within an hour, that all
The cities of that kingdom ftream'd with blood
Nor age, nor fex was spar'd; old men, nay babes,
Fat in their helpless mothers' arm, were pierc'd
With the fame weapon; fick men in their beds,
Brave warriors in their fleep, were butcher'd: one,
One only check'd their courfe-The first who fell,
Brave Coligni. whofe very name appals
The bigot's heart-At fight of his grey locks,
So known where'er the thickeft battle rag'd,
They stood aghaft, till one more harden'd wretch,
With eyes averted, ftabb'd him to the heart

Eliz. Oh! let me fhed one tear for that great man! Dav. Marshalls of France, and Bifhops led the band,

Invoking Heav'n. yet calling out for blood;
And, oh! eternal infamy the King

Look'd on, encourag'd, nay imbru'd his hands,
His facred hands, in his own fubjects' blood:
Pointing his carabine at thofe who fled