As if thou hadst resolved to brave thy fate
And triumph in the midst of desolation.
Lady Jane. And dost thou think, my Guilford, I can see
My father, mother, and e’en thee, my husband,
Torn from my side, without a pang of sorrow?
How art thou thus unknowing in my heart?
Words cannot tell thee what I feel; there is
An agonizing softness busy here
That tugs the strings, that struggles to get loose,
And pour my soul in wailings out before thee.