_Alic._ Thy prayer is heard--I go--but know, proud lord, Howe'er thou scorn'st the weakness of my sex, This feeble hand may find the means to reach thee, Howe'er sublime in pow'r and greatness plac'd, With royal favour guarded round and graced; On eagle's wings my rage shall urge her flight, And hurl thee headlong from thy topmast height; Then, like thy fate, superior will I sit, And view thee fall'n, and grov'ling at my feet; See thy last breath with indignation go, And tread thee sinking to the shades below. [_exit._ _Lord H._ How fierce a fiend is passion! With what wildness, What tyranny, untam'd it reigns in woman! Unhappy sex! whose easy, yielding, temper Gives way to ev'ry appetite alike: And love in their weak bosoms is a rage As terrible as hate, and as destructive. But soft ye now--for here comes one, disclaims Strife and her wrangling train; of equal elements, Without one jarring atom, was she form'd, And gentleness and joy make up her being. _Enter Jane Shore._ Forgive me, fair one, if officious friendship Intrudes on your repose, and comes thus late To greet you with the tidings of success. The princely Gloster has vouchsaf'd your hearing, To-morrow he expects you at the court; There plead your cause, with never-failing beauty, Speak all your griefs, and find a full redress. _Jane S._ Thus humbly let your lowly servant bend. [_kneeling._ Thus let me bow my grateful knee to earth, And bless your noble nature for this goodness. _Lord H._ Rise, gentle dame, you wrong my meaning much, Think me not guilty of a thought so vain, To sell my courtesy for thanks like these. _Jane S._ 'Tis true, your bounty is beyond my speaking: But, though my mouth be dumb, my heart shall thank you; And when it melts before the throne of mercy, Mourning and bleeding for my past offences, My fervent soul shall breathe one pray'r for you, That heav'n will pay you back, when most you need, The grace and goodness you have shown to me. _Lord H._ If there be aught of merit in my service, Impute it there, where most 'tis due, to love; Be kind, my gentle mistress, to my wishes, And satisfy my panting heart with beauty. _Jane S._ Alas! my lord---- _Lord H._ Why bend thy eyes to earth? Wherefore these looks of heaviness and sorrow? Why breathes that sigh, my love? And wherefore falls This trickling show'r of tears, to stain thy sweetness? _Jane S._ If pity dwells within your noble breast, (As sure it does), oh, speak not to me thus. _Lord H._ Can I behold thee, and not speak of love? Ev'n now, thus sadly as thou stand'st before me, Thus desolate, dejected, and forlorn, Thy softness steals upon my yielding senses, Till my soul faints, and sickens with desire; How canst thou give this motion to my heart, And bid my tongue be still?