 | The Earl of Warwick |  |
WARWICK.
Mistaken mortals plan delusive schemes
Of bliss, and call futurity their own,
Yet are not masters of a moment—this
Was the appointed time, the very day
Which shou'd have join'd me to Elizabeth
In nuptial bonds:—O cruel memory,
Do not torment me—if there be a crime
Of deeper dye than all the guilty train
Of human vices, 'tis—ingratitude.
'Tis now two years since Henry lost the crown,
And here he is, ev'n in this very prison
A fellow captive now: disgraceful thought!
How will he smile to meet his conqu'ror here!
O for that stoic apathy which lulls
The drowsy soul to sweet forgetfulness!
But 'twill not be:—Elizabeth, where art thou?
Perhaps with Edward—O that thought distracts me:
It is, I fear, as Marg'ret said; she's false.
But when I look on these, can I expect
To find one virtue left in human kind?
My Pembroke too! am I so soon forgotten?
O no; he comes—
Mistaken mortals plan delusive schemes
Of bliss, and call futurity their own,
Yet are not masters of a moment—this
Was the appointed time, the very day
Which shou'd have join'd me to Elizabeth
In nuptial bonds:—O cruel memory,
Do not torment me—if there be a crime
Of deeper dye than all the guilty train
Of human vices, 'tis—ingratitude.
'Tis now two years since Henry lost the crown,
And here he is, ev'n in this very prison
A fellow captive now: disgraceful thought!
How will he smile to meet his conqu'ror here!
O for that stoic apathy which lulls
The drowsy soul to sweet forgetfulness!
But 'twill not be:—Elizabeth, where art thou?
Perhaps with Edward—O that thought distracts me:
It is, I fear, as Marg'ret said; she's false.
But when I look on these, can I expect
To find one virtue left in human kind?
My Pembroke too! am I so soon forgotten?
O no; he comes—
| The Earl of Warwick | |