SCENE IV.

_Enter_ GOVIANUS _in black, a book in his hand, his_ PAGE _carrying a torch before him_.

GOV. Already mine eye melts; the monument No sooner stood before it, but a tear Ran swiftly from me to express her duty. Temple of honour! I salute thee early, The time that my griefs rise; chamber of peace! Where wounded virtue sleeps, lock'd from the world, I bring, to be acquainted with thy silence, Sorrows that love no noise; they dwell all inward, Where truth and love in every man should dwell. Be ready, boy! give me the strain again, 'Twill show well here whilst, in my grief's devotion, At every rest mine eye lets fall a bead, To keep the number perfect.

[GOVIANUS _kneels at the tomb. His_ PAGE _sings_.

_The Song._

_If ever pity were well-plac'd_ _On true desert and virtuous honour,_ _It could ne'er be better grac'd;_ _Freely then bestow't upon her._ _Never lady earn'd her fame_ _In virtue's war with greater strife;_ _To preserve her constant name_ _She gave up beauty, youth, and life._ _There she sleeps;_ _And here he weeps,_ _The lord unto so rare a wife._ _Weep, weep, and mourn! lament,_ _You virgins that pass by her!_ _For if praise come by death again,_ _I doubt few will lie nigh her._

GOV. Thou art an honest boy, 'tis like one That has a feeling of his master's passions And the unmatch'd worth of his dead mistress. Thy better years shall find me good to thee, When understanding ripens in thy soul, Which truly makes the man, and not long time. Prythee, withdraw a little, and attend me At the cloister door.

PAGE. It shall be done, my lord. [PAGE _retires_.

GOV. Eternal maid of honour, whose chaste body Lies here, like virtue's close and hidden seed, To spring forth glorious to eternity At the everlasting harvest!

A VOICE WITHIN. I am not here.

GOV. What's that? who is not here? I'm forc'd to question it, Some idle sounds the beaten vaults send forth.

[_On a sudden, in a kind of noise like a wind, the_ _doors clattering, the tombstone flies open,_ _and a great light appears in the midst of_ _the tomb; his lady as[471] went out, standing_ _before him all in white, stuck with jewels,_ _and a great crucifix on her breast._[472]

GOV. Mercy, look to me! Faith, I fly to thee! Keep a strong watch about me! (now thy friendship!) O, never came astonishment and fear So pleasing to mankind! I take delight To have my breast shake, and my hair stand stiff. If this be sorrow, let it never die! Came all the pains of hell in that shape to me, I should endure them smiling! keep me still In terror, I beseech thee! I'd not change This fever for felicity of man, Or all the pleasures of ten thousand ages.

GHOST. Dear lord, I come to tell you all my wrongs.

GOV. Welcome! Who wrongs the spirit of my love? Thou art above the injuries of blood, They cannot reach thee now; what dares offend thee? No life that has the weight of flesh upon't, And treads as I do, can now wrong my mistress.

GHOST. The, peace that death allows me is not mine, The monument is robb'd. Behold! I'm gone, My body taken up.

GOV. [_Lifts the stone._] 'Tis gone, indeed, What villain dares so fearfully run in debt To black eternity?

GHOST. He that dares do more--the tyrant.

GOV. All the miseries below Reward his boldness!

GHOST. I am now at court In his own private chamber: there he wooes me, And plies his suit to me with as serious pains, As if the short flame of mortality Were lighted up again in my cold breast; Folds me within his arms, and often sets A sinful kiss upon my senseless lip; Weeps when he sees the paleness of my cheek, And will send privately for a hand of art, That may dissemble life upon my face, To please his lustful eye.

GOV. O piteous wrongs! Inhuman injuries, without grace or mercy!

GHOST. I leave them to thy thought, dearest of men! My rest is lost; thou must restore't again.

GOV. O, fly me not so soon!

GHOST. Farewell, true lord.

[_The_ GHOST _disappears_.

GOV. I cannot spare thee yet. I'll make myself Over to death too, and we'll walk together Like loving spirits; I pray thee, let's do so. She's snatch'd away by fate, and I talk sickly; I must despatch this business upon earth, Before I take that journey. I'll to my brother for his aid or counsel. So wrong'd? O heaven, put armour on my spirit! Her body I will place in her first nest, Or in th' attempt lock death into my breast. [_Exit._

FOOTNOTES:

[468] [_i.e._, First-rate.]

[469] [MS. _now_, and so former edit.]

[470] [Lustrous, bright.]

[471] [So in the MS. We should regard this form of expression as a vulgarism.]

[472] [The printed copy of 1824 does not follow the MS. here. In the margin of the original is written, _Enter Lady Rich. Robinson_, by which, I suppose, is meant that the lady was to enter here, and that the part was taken by a person of that name.]