 | The Earl of Warwick |  |
23
SCENE V.
MARGARET of ANJOU, WARWICK.WARWICK.
Will Margaret of Anjou
Thus deign to visit her acknowledg'd foe?
MARGARET.
Alas! my lord, inured to wretchedness
As I am, and familiar with misfortune,
I harbour no resentment; have long since
Forgot that ever Warwick was my foe,
And only wish to prove myself his friend.
WARWICK.
Talk not of friendship, 'tis an empty name,
And lives but in idea; once indeed
I thought I had a friend.—
MARGARET.
Whose name was—Edward;
Read I aright, my lord, and am I not
A shrew'd diviner? yes; that down-cast eye
And gloomy aspect say I am: you look
As if the idol, made by your own hands,
Had fallen upon and crushed you, is't not so?
WARWICK.
Amazement! nought escapes thy piercing eye,
And penetrating judgment: 'tis too true,
I am a poor dishonour'd slave,
Not worth thy seeking; leave me, for the tide
Of court preferment flows another way.
MARGARET.
The feast, perhaps, you have provided, suits not
With Edward's nicer palate; he disdains,
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And relishes no dainties but his own:
Am I again mistaken?
WARWICK.
Sure thou deal'st
With some all-knowing spirit, who imparts
Each secret purpose to thee, else how knew'st thou
That Edward refus'd to wed the princess?
MARGARET.
O! it requires no supernatural aid
To trace his actions, nor has Marg'ret trod
The paths of life with unobserving eye;
I could have told you this long since—for know,
The choice is made, the nuptial rites prepar'd,
Which, but for your return, as unexpected
As undesired, had been, e'er this, complete;
And as in duty bound, you then had paid
Your due obedience to our—English queen.
WARWICK.
Determin'd, say'st thou? gracious heaven! 'tis well
I am return'd.
MARGARET.
Indeed, my lord, you came
A little out of season, 'twas unkind
To interrupt your master's happiness,
To blast so fair a passion in its bloom,
And check the rising harvest of his love.
WARWICK.
Marg'ret, I thank thee—yes, it must be so:
His blushes, his confusion, all confirm it,
And yet I am amaz'd, astonish'd.
MARGARET.
Wherefore?—
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Is it so strange, a mind, unfraught with wisdom,
And lifted high with proud prosperity,
Shou'd follow pleasure thro' the crooked paths
Of falshood, shou'd forsake a useless friend,
For the warm joys of animating beauty?
WARWICK.
No: but 'tis strange, that he who knows how much
He ow'd to Warwick, he, who ev'ry hour
Tastes the rich stream of bounty, should forget
The fountain whence it flow'd.
MARGARET.
Alas! my lord,
Had you been chasten'd in affliction's school
As I have been, and taught by sad experience
To know mankind, you had not fall'n a prey
To such delusion.
WARWICK.
Was it like a friend,
Was it like Edward to conceal his love?
Some base insinuating, artful woman,
With borrow'd charms, perhaps.—
MARGARET.
Hold, hold, my lord,
Be not too rash: who fights in darkness oft
May wound a bosom friend: perhaps you wrong
The best, and most accomplish'd of her sex.
WARWICK.
Know you the lady?
MARGARET.
But as fame reports,
Of peerless beauty and transcendent charms,
But for her virtues—I must ask of—you—
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Of me? what virtues? whose?
MARGARET.
Elizabeth's.
WARWICK.
Amazement! no: it must not, it cannot be:
Elizabeth! he cou'd not, dare not do it!
Confusion! I shall soon discover all.
(aside.)
But what have I to do with Edward's choice,
Whoe'er she be, if he refuses mine?
MARGARET.
Dissimulation sits but ill, my lord,
On minds like yours: I am a poor weak woman,
And so, it seems, you think me; but suppose
That same all-knowing spirit which you rais'd,
Who condescends so kindly to instruct me,
Shou'd whisper—Warwick knows the pow'r of love
As well as Edward, that Elizabeth
Was his first wish, the idol of his soul;
What say you?—might I venture to believe it?
WARWICK.
Marg'ret, you might; for 'tis in vain to hide
A thought from thee; it might have told you too,
If it be so, there is not such a wretch
On earth as Warwick: give me but the proof—
MARGARET.
Lord Suffolk was last night dispatch'd to Grafton,
To offer her a share in Edward's throne.
WARWICK.
Which she refus'd: did she not, Marg'ret? say
She did.
MARGARET.
I know not that, my lord, but crowns
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Such strong temptations, few of us, I fear,
Have virtue to resist.
WARWICK.
Elizabeth
Has every virtue, I'll not doubt her faith.
MARGARET.
Edward is young and handsome.
WARWICK.
Curses on him!
Think'st thou he knew my fond attachment there?
MARGARET.
O passing well, my lord, and when 'twas urg'd,
How deeply 'twou'd affect you, swore by heav'n,
Imperious Warwick ne'er shou'd be the master
Of charms like hers; 'twas happiness, he said,
Beyond a subject's merit to deserve,
Beyond his hope to wish for or aspire to.
WARWICK.
But for that Warwick, Edward's self had been
A subject still—and—may be so—hereafter.
Thou smil'st at my misfortunes.
MARGARET.
I must smile
When I behold a subtle statesman thus
Duped and deluded by a shallow boy,
Sent on a fruitless errand to expose
His country and himself—it was indeed
A master stroke of policy, beyond
One shou'd have thought, the reach of years so green
As Edward's, to dispatch the weeping lover,
And seize the glorious opportunity
Of tamp'ring with his mistress here at home.
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Did Nevil, Rutland, Clifford, bleed for this?
MARGARET.
For this doth Henry languish in a dungeon,
And wretched Marg'ret live a life of woe:
For this you gave the crown to pious Edward,
And thus he thanks you for his kingdom.
WARWICK.
Crowns
Are baubles, fit for children like himself
To play with, I have scatter'd many of them:
But thus to cross me in my dearest hope,
The sweet reward of all my toils for him
And for his country; if I suffer it,
If I forgive him, may I live the scorn
Of men, a branded coward, and old age
Without or love or rev'rence be my portion!
Henceforth, good Marg'ret, know me for thy friend,
We will have noble vengeance:—are there not
Still left among'st the lazy sons of peace,
Some busy spirits who wish well to thee
And to thy cause?
MARGARET.
There are: resentment sleeps,
But is not dead; beneath the hollow cover
Of loyalty, the slumb'ring ashes lye
Unheeded, Warwick's animating breath
Will quickly light them into flames again.
WARWICK.
Then, Edward, from this moment I abjure thee:
O I will make thee ample recompence
For all the wrongs that I have done the house
Of Lancaster:—go, summon all thy friends;
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And yield my soul to perjur'd York again.
The king, I think gives you free liberty,
To range abroad.
MARGARET.
He doth, and I will use it,
As I wou'd ever use the gift of foes,
To his destruction.
WARWICK.
That arch-pandar, Suffolk,
That minister of vice—but time is precious;
To-morrow, Marg'ret, we will meet in private,
And have some further conference; mean-time
Devise, consult, use ev'ry means against
Our common foe: remember, from this hour,
Warwick's thy friend—be secret and be happy.
| The Earl of Warwick | |