University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

York, Beaufort.
York.
So!—Now, he aims a Smile of Treachery at me.

Beauf.
What?—My right-noble Friend; the Duke of York!—
And (or my Eye-sight fails) the Earl of Salisbury
Parted from you.—Why were you not at Council?

York.
Were we not, Both, shut out?—

Beauf.
You surprise me!

York.
Am I your Mirth?—I tell thee, Cardinal;
Had there been present, at the Board, One honest Man,
Gloucester had not been seised.

Beauf.
Had I been present;
What could a single Voice?—And That, not much, regarded?

York.
Most profligate Dissembler!—

[Half aside.
Beauf.
Nay, my Lord;
Were I not sway'd, like You, by Humfrey's Vertues;
Yet, would the Ties of Blood, alone, engage me,
On all Occasions, to support my Nephew.

York.
The Ties of Blood!—No, Winchester!—The Priesthood,
To Celibacy vow'd, are dead to all Endearments.—
What Ties have You?—Nor conjugal, nor filial Love,
Nor Brotherhood, nor Parents Griefs, or Joys,
Nor Friendship's generous Flame, nor Sympathies
Of any Kind, affect Your Hearts!—

Beauf.
Forbear:—
I must not hear you, thus inveigh against
Your Spiritual Guides.

York.
Our merciless Oppressers!—
In all your Interests, sever'd from the People,
Of worldly Wealth, and Pomp, and Power, you would
Ingross the Whole; And leave, to Us, the Cares,
The Servitude, the Penury, of Life:
Giving us empty Benedictions, in Exchange,
For the substantial Blessings, You enjoy.

Beauf.
Would you destroy the Authority of our Church?

York.
It's Tyranny.—A heavy Yoke, impos'd
Not upon Subjects only, but on Kings!—
Should One, of Your Distinction, be arrested;
Nay, an inferiour Priest;—And even by Law:
You, soon, would raise an Outcry, full of Tumult,
To shake, if not subvert, the establisht Throne.

Beauf.

York.
I know thee, for the mortal Foe of Gloucester!—
And,—but thou meditat'st some monstrous Mischief,
(What it may be, Time only can reveal!)
Thou would'st not, thus, smother thy Enmity,
To Me; who have mark'd thee, for the Worst of Men!

Beauf.
Opprobrious Rage!—What Hatred do I shew?

York.
True Malice, rankling deep within the Heart,
Holds not Communication with the Tongue.

Beauf.
Let me refrain from Anger still:—Though, York,
In his uncharitable Thoughts persisting,
Condemn my meek Forbearance.—

York.
In Forbearance,
Like the chill Snake, with inward Venom fraught;
That, coil'd, within the flowery Herbage lurks:
Sure Death to the unwary Tread.—

Beauf.
Enough!—
Nor think, the Dread of Thee, presuming York,
Checks our Displeasure.—But, we disdain to wrangle
With every peevish Duke.—I, here, renounce
Thy Friendship!—

York.
Thine, have I, long, renounced!—

Beauf.
Thou hast disclos'd such Rancour, in thy Soul;
That, were I innocent, as dying Saints,
And Gloucester,—not exempt from human Woes,
Should prove Unfortunate,—(Which Heaven forbid!)
Thy Malice would reflect the Blame, on Me.

York.
Beaufort;—I never lov'd thee; But;—for thy calm,
Thy steady Dissimulation,—Thou art, now,
My fix'd Abhorrence!—Happy, for Gloucester!
It is not in Thy Power to harm the Man,
Whose Vertues make him reverenced through the Land.