 | The Earl of Warwick |  |
SCENE I.
ELIZABETH.The royal pardon came too late, and Pembroke
Already has releas'd him; he is gone—
Elizabeth may never see him more.
A thousand terrors haunt me, a fond father,
A guiltless sov'reign, a distracted lover,
Fame, fortune, friends, and country, all depend
On one eventful moment—hark! the sound
Of distant groans! perhaps the king—perhaps
My Warwick bleeds. O! agonizing thought!
Great God of armies, whose all-guiding hand
Directs the fate of nations, O! look down
On thy own image, let not cruel discord
Divide their kindred souls! in pity hear,
Pour thy benignant spirit o'er their hearts,
And once more knit them in the bonds of peace!
| The Earl of Warwick | |