 | The Earl of Warwick |  |
15
ACT II.
SCENE I.
WARWICK (Speaking to an officer.)WARWICK.
'Tis well: I shall attend his highness' pleasure.
[Comes forward.]
Meet me i'th' council! Warwick might have claim'd
A private audience—After all my toils,
My perils in his service, 'tis a cold
Unkind reception: some base whisperer,
Some needy sycophant, perhaps, hath poison'd
My royal master's ear—or, do I judge
Too rashly? As my embassy concerns
The public welfare, he wou'd honour me
With public thanks.—Elizabeth will chide me
For this unkind delay—but honour calls,
And duty to my king: that task perform'd,
I haste, my love, to happiness and thee.
SCENE II.
the Council Chamber.King EDWARD, Dukes of CLARENCE, and BUCKINGHAM, Earls of SUFFOLK, PEMBROKE, &c.
EDWARD.
Good Buckingham, I thank thee for thy counsel,
Nor blame thy honest warmth; I love this freedom,
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And doth become thee: what says noble Suffolk?
SUFFOLK.
I wou'd not cross my royal master's will;
But, on my soul, I think, this nuptial league
With France prepost'rous and impolitic!
It cannot last; we are by nature foes,
And nought but mutual poverty and weakness,
Can ever make us friends—she wants our aid
Against the pow'rful Burgundy, and therefore,
Throws out this lure of beauty to ensnare you,
That purpose gain'd, she turns her arms against us.
PEMBROKE.
Why, let her: if she comes with hostile arm,
England thank heav'n, is ready to receive her:
I love my country, and revere my king,
As much perhaps as honest Buckingham,
Or my good fearful lord of Suffolk here,
Who knows so well, or wou'd be thought to know,
What France will do hereafter: yet I think,
The faith of nations is a thing so sacred,
It ought not to be trifled with.—I hate
As much as you th'unnatural forc'd alliance,
And yet, my lords, if Warwick is empow'r'd,
For so I hear he is, to treat with Lewis;
I know not how in honour you can swerve
From his conditions.
(shouting.)
Hark! the hero comes:
Those shouts proclaim him near: the joyful people
Will usher in their great deliverer
As he deserves.
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SCENE III.
KING EDWARD, CLARENCE, SUFFOLK, BUCKINGHAM, PEMBROKE, WARWICK.EDWARD.
Thrice welcome, noble Warwick,
Welcome to all!
[to Clarence, Pembroke, &c.
SUFFOLK.
You've had, my lord, I fear,
An arduous task, which few cou'd execute.
But Warwick, in the council and the field,
A like distinguish'd, and a like successful.
EDWARD.
What says our cousin France?
WARWICK.
By me, my liege,
He greets you well, and hopes in closer ties
United soon to wear a dearer name.
At length, thank heav'n! the iron gates of war
Are clos'd, and peace displays her silken banners
O'er the contending nations, ev'ry doubt
Is now remov'd, and confidence establish'd,
I hope, to last for ages.
EDWARD.
Peace, my lord,
Is ever welcome; 'tis the gift of heav'n,
The nurse of science, art's fair patroness,
And merit's best protector; but if France
Wou'd chain us down to ignominious terms,
Cramp our free commerce, and infringe the rights
Of our liege subjects, England may repent
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With all her blessings may be bought too dear.
WARWICK.
The shame wou'd then be his, who made the purchase.
If any doubt my faith, my honest zeal
For thee and for my country, let him speak,
And I will answer: punish me, just heav'n,
If in the task I have consulted ought
But England's honour, and my sov'reign's glory!
EDWARD.
Mistake me not, good Warwick, well I know
Thy spotless truth, thy honour, and thy love;
But glory has no further charms for me:
Rais'd by thy pow'rful aid to England's throne,
I ask no more:—already I am great
As fame and fortune with their smiles can make me,
And all I wish for now is—to be happy.
WARWICK.
That too my liege, hath been thy Warwick's care:
Happy thou shalt be if the fairest form
That ever caught a gazing lover's eye,
Join'd to the sweetest most engaging virtues
Can make thee so:—Bona accepts with joy
Thy proffer'd hand: she is indeed a gem
Fit to adorn the brightest crown: to see
Is to admire her; trust me, England's self
The seat of beauty, and the throne of love,
Boasts not a fairer.
EDWARD.
Beauty, good my lord,
Is all ideal, 'tis the wayward child
Of fancy, shifting with the changeful wind
Of fond opinion; what to you appears
19
My strange capricious taste.
WARWICK.
Such charms would fix
Inconstancy itself:—her winning virtues,
Ev'n if her beauty fail'd, would soon subdue
The rebel heart, and you wou'd learn to love her.
EDWARD.
Is passion to be learn'd then? woud'st thou make
A science of affection, guide the heart,
And teach it where to fix? impossible!
'Tis strange philosophy.
(Rises and comes forward.)
My lord, of Warwick,
Your zeal in England's, and in Edward's cause
Merits our thanks; but for th'intended marriage
With France's daughter—it may never be.
WARWICK.
Not be! it must: your sacred word is pass'd,
And cannot be recall'd: but three days since
I sign'd the contract, and my honour's pledg'd
For the performance: heav'n's! whilst fickle France
Is branded 'midst the nations of the earth,
For breach of public faith, shall we, my liege,
Practise ourselves the vices we condemn,
Pass o'er a rival nation's ev'ry virtue,
And imitate their perfidy alone?
EDWARD.
You'll pardon me, my lord, I thought it part
Of a king's pow'r to have a will, to see
With his own eyes, and in life's little feast,
To cater for himself; but 'tis, it seems,
A privilege his servants can refuse him.
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And so they ought—the king, who cannot conquer
His private int'rest for the public welfare,
Knows not his duty.
EDWARD.
Kings, my lord, are born
With passions, feelings, hearts—like other men;
Nor see I yet, why Edward's happiness
Must fall a sacrifice to Warwick's honour.
WARWICK.
My honour, Sir, is your's; my cause your own:
Who sent me, and whose image did I bear,
The image of a great and glorious king,
Or of a weak and wav'ring boy?—henceforth,
Choose from the herd of fawning sycophants,
Some needy slave for your mock ambassys,
To do your work, and stain the name of England
With foul reproach—Edward, I blush for thee,
And for my country; from this hour, expect
From injur'd France contempt, with deep resentment
For broken faith, and enmity eternal.
EDWARD.
Eternal be it then; for, as I prize
My inward peace, beyond the pomp of state,
And all the tinsel glare of fond ambition,
I will not wed her. Gracious heav'n! what am I?
The meanest peasant in my realm may chuse
His rustic bride, and share with her the sweets
Of mutual friendship and domestic bliss;
Why shou'd my happier subjects then deny me
The common rights, the privilege of nature,
And in a land of freedom thus conspire
To make their king the only slave amongst 'em?
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The worst of slaves is he whom passion rules,
Uncheck'd by reason and the pow'rful voice
Of friendship, which, I fear, is heard no more
By thoughtless Edward—'tis the curse of kings
To be surrounded by a venal herd
Of flatterers, that sooth his darling vices,
And rob their master of his subjects love.
Nay, frown not, Sirs, supported as ye are,
I fear you not—which of this noble train,
These well-beloved counsellors and friends,
Assembled here to witness my disgrace,
Have urg'd to this base unmanly falsehood?
Shame on you all! to stain the spotless mind
Of uncorrupted youth, undo the work
Of Warwick's friendly hand, and give him back
A sov'reign so unlike the noble Edward.
SUFFOLK.
My lord, we thank you for the kind suggestion
Howe'er ill-founded, and when next we meet,
To give our voice in ought that may concern
The public weal, no doubt shall ask your leave
E'er we proceed.
PEMBROKE.
My lord of Suffolk, speak
But for yourself; Warwick hath too much cause
To be offended: in my poor opinion,
Whate'er you courtiers think, the best support
Of England's throne are equity and truth;
Nor will I hold that man my sov'reign's friend,
Who shall exhort him to forsake his word,
And play the hypocrite: what tye shall bind
The subject to obedience, when his king,
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To perfidy and falshood?
BUCKINGHAM.
It becomes
But ill the earl of Pembroke—
EDWARD.
Good my lords—
Let us have no dissentions here; we met
For other purposes—some few days hence
We shall expect your counsel in affairs
Of moment—for the present urge no further
This matter—fare ye well.
[The council break up and disperse.
EDWARD comes up to Warwick.
Lord Warwick, keep
In narrower bounds, that proud impetuous temper;
It may be fatal: there are private reasons—
When time befits we shall impart them to you,
Mean-while—if you have friendship, love, or duty,
No more of Bona—I'm determin'd.
SCENE IV.
WARWICK.So:
'Tis well: 'tis very well: I have deserv'd it;
I've borne this callow eagle on my wing,
And now he spurns me from him: 'tis a change
I little look'd for, and sits heavy on me:
Alas! how doubly painful is the wound,
When 'tis inflicted by the hand we love!
Cruel, ungrateful Edward!—
Ha! who's here?
The captive queen! if she has ought to ask
Of me, she comes in luckless hour, for I
Am pow'rless now.
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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.
SCENE VI.
MARGARET.What easy fools these cunning statesmen are,
With all their policy, when once they fall
Into a woman's pow'r! This gallant leader,
This blust'ring Warwick, how the hero shrunk
And lessen'd to my sight!—Elizabeth,
I thank thee for thy wonder-working charms;
The time perhaps may come, when I shall stand
Indebted to them for—the throne of England.
Proud York beware, for Lancaster's great name
Shall rise superior in the lists of fame:
Fortune that long had frown'd, shall smile at last,
And make amends for all my sorrows past.
End of the Second Act.
| The Earl of Warwick | |