GOW (_to the Spirit_). What can the Grave against us, O my Heart, Comfort and light and reason in all things Visible and invisible--my one God? Thou that wast I these barren unyoked years Of triflings now at end! Frances! PRINCESS. She’s old. FERDINAND. True. By most reckonings old. They must keep other count. PRINCESS. He kisses his hand to the air! FERDINAND. His ring, rather, he kisses. Yes--for sure--the ring. GOW. Dear and most dear. And now, those very arms. (_Dies._) PRINCESS. Oh, look! He faints. Haste, you! Unhelm him! Help! FERDINAND. Needless. No help Avails against that poison. He is sped. PRINCESS. By his own hand? _This_ hour? When I had offered---- FERDINAND. He had made other choice--an old, old choice, Ne’er swerved from, and now patently sealed in death. PRINCESS. He called on--the Lady Frances was it? Wherefore? FERDINAND. Because she was his life. Forgive, my friend-- (_covers_ GOW’S _face_). God’s uttermost beyond me in all faith, Service and passion--if I unveil at last The secret. (_To the Princess_) Thought--dreamed you, it was for _you_ He poured himself--for you resoldered the Crown? Struck here, held there, amended, broke, built up His multiplied imaginings for _you_? PRINCESS. I thought--I thought he---- FERDINAND. Looked beyond. _Her_ wish Was the sole Law he knew. _She_ did not choose Your House should perish. Therefore he bade it stand. Enough for him when she had breathed a word: ’Twas his to make it iron, stone, or fire, Driving our flesh and blood before his ways As the wind straws. Her one face unregarded Waiting you with your mantle or your glove-- That is the God whom he is gone to worship. (_Trumpets without. Enter the Prince’s Heralds._) And here’s the work of Kingship begun again. These from the Prince of Bargi--to whose sword You owe such help as may, he thinks, be paid.... He’s equal in blood, in fortune more than peer, Young, most well favoured, with a heart to love-- And two States in the balance. Do you meet him? PRINCESS. God and my Misery! I have seen Love at last. What shall content me after? THE PROPAGATION OF KNOWLEDGE THE BIRTHRIGHT _The miracle of our land’s speech--so known And long received, none marvel when ’tis shown!_