 | Edward and Eleonora |  |
SCENE I.
Prince Edward, Theald Archdeacon of Liege, Earl of Gloster.Edward.
I will no longer doubt, 'Tis plain, my Friends,
That with our little Band of English Troops,
By all Allies all western Powers deserted,
All but the noble Knights that guard this Land,
The Flower of Europe and of Christian Valour,
Nought can be done, nought worthy of our Cause,
Worthy of England's Heir, and of the Name
Of Lion-hearted Richard; whose Renown,
After almost a Century elaps'd,
Shakes thro' its wide Extent this Eastern World.
What else could bend the Saracen to Peace,
Who might, with better Policy, refuse
2
I will accord the Peace he has demanded:
And tho' my Troops, impatient, wait the Signal
To storm yon Walls, yet will I not expose,
In vain Attempts, Valour that should be sav'd
For better days, and for the public Welfare.
Rash fruitless War, from wanton Glory wag'd,
Is only splendid Murder—What says Theald?
Approves my Reverend Father of my Purpose?
Theald.
Edward, illustrious Heir of England's Crown,
I must indeed be blinded with the Zeal
Of this our holy Cause, to think your Arms,
Thus all-forsaken, thus betray'd, sufficient
To reach the Grandeur of your first Design,
And, from the Yoke of Infidels, to free
The sacred City, Object of our Vows.
Yet this, methinks, this Jaffa might be seiz'd:
That still were something, an auspicious Omen
Of future Conquest—But, unskill'd in War,
To you, my Lord, and Gloster's wise Experience,
I this submit.
Edward.
Speak, Gloster, your Advice,
Before I fix my latest Resolution.
Gloster.
You know, my Lord, I never was a Friend
To this Crusado. My unchang'd Advice
Is strenuous then for Peace. Nor this, alone,
From your deserted Circumstance I urge,
But from the state of our unhappy Country.
Behold her, Edward, with a filial Eye,
And say, is this a time for these Adventures?
Behold Her still with deep Commotion shook,
Beneath a false delusive Face of Quiet:
Behold Her bleeding still from Civil War,
Exhausted, sunk; drain'd by ten thousand Arts
3
Ill-manag'd Expeditions, Strangers, Legates,
Italian Leeches, and insatiate Rome;
That never rag'd before with such gross Insult,
With such abandon'd Avarice. Besides,
Who knows what evil Counsellors, again,
Are gather'd round the Throne. In Times like these,
Disturb'd, and lowring with unsettled Freedom,
One step to lawless Power, one old Attempt
Renew'd, the least Infringement of our Charters,
Would hurl the giddy Nation into Tempest.
Return, my Prince. You have already sav'd
Your Father from his Foes, from haughty Leister:
Now save him from his Ministers, from those
Who hold him captive in the worst of Chains—
Edward.
You, Gloster, sav'd us both.
Gloster.
I did my Duty;
Even while I join'd with Leister, did my Duty—
I hope I did—He, who contends for Freedom,
Can ne'er be justly deem'd his Sovereign's Foe:
No, 'tis the Wretch that tempts him to subvert it,
The soothing Slave, the Traitor in the bosom,
Who best deserves that Name; he is the Worm
That eats out all the Happiness of Kingdoms.
Even while I join'd with Leister, did my Duty—
I hope I did—He, who contends for Freedom,
Can ne'er be justly deem'd his Sovereign's Foe:
No, 'tis the Wretch that tempts him to subvert it,
The soothing Slave, the Traitor in the bosom,
Who best deserves that Name; he is the Worm
That eats out all the Happiness of Kingdoms.
Edward, return; lose not a Day, an Hour,
Before this City. Tho' your Cause be holy,
Believe me, 'tis a much more pious Office,
To save your Father's old and broken Years,
His mild and easy Temper, from the Snares
Of low corrupt insinuating Traitors:
A nobler Office far! on the firm Base
Of well-proportion'd Liberty, to build
The common Quiet, Happiness and Glory,
Of King and People, England's rising Grandeur.
To you, my Prince, this Task, of right, belongs.
Has not the Royal Heir a juster Claim
To share his Father's inmost Heart and Counsels,
Than Aliens to his Int'rest, those, who make
A Property, a Market of his Honour?
Before this City. Tho' your Cause be holy,
Believe me, 'tis a much more pious Office,
To save your Father's old and broken Years,
His mild and easy Temper, from the Snares
Of low corrupt insinuating Traitors:
A nobler Office far! on the firm Base
Of well-proportion'd Liberty, to build
The common Quiet, Happiness and Glory,
Of King and People, England's rising Grandeur.
4
Has not the Royal Heir a juster Claim
To share his Father's inmost Heart and Counsels,
Than Aliens to his Int'rest, those, who make
A Property, a Market of his Honour?
One Reason more allow me to suggest
For Peace, immediate Peace—should blind Misfortune,
In this far-distant hostile Land, oppress us;
A Chance to which our Weakness stands expos'd:
What, Edward, of thy Princess would become,
Thy Eleonora; she, whose tender Love
Thro' stormy Seas, and in fierce Camps, attends thee?
What of thy blooming Offspring? charg'd with these,
To give our Courage scope were cruel Rashness.
For Peace, immediate Peace—should blind Misfortune,
In this far-distant hostile Land, oppress us;
A Chance to which our Weakness stands expos'd:
What, Edward, of thy Princess would become,
Thy Eleonora; she, whose tender Love
Thro' stormy Seas, and in fierce Camps, attends thee?
What of thy blooming Offspring? charg'd with these,
To give our Courage scope were cruel Rashness.
Edward.
Enough, my Lord, I stand resolv'd on Peace;
And will to England strait—But where, alas,
Where shall we cover our inglorious Heads;
When gay with Hope the People round us press,
To hear by what Exploits we have sustain'd
The Fame of Richard, and of English Valour?
Shall I, my generous Country, I be rank'd
With those weak Princes, who consume thy Wealth,
And sink thy Name in idle Expeditions?—
Perfidious France! Be this the ruling Point
Of my whole Life, the Passion of my Soul,
To humble thee, proud Nation!—Meantime, Gloster,
See that the captive Princess be restor'd,
Daraxa to the Sultan of this City,
Whose Bride she is—We wage not war with Women.
| Edward and Eleonora | |