 | The Earl of Warwick |  |
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ACT IV.
SCENE, The Tower.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—
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SCENE II.
PEMBROKE, WARWICK.PEMBROKE.
My friend!
WARWICK.
My Pembroke, welcome:
Thee I have ever found most just and kind;
But, in the darkness of adversity
The jewel friendship shines with double lustre.
PEMBROKE.
I am not of the insect train that bask
In fortune's sunshine, and when ev'ning damps
Arise, are seen no more: no, Warwick, what
I speak, I mean: you have been hardly treated.
WARWICK.
O! Pembroke, didst thou know but half the wrongs
That I have suffer'd, thou wou'dst pity me.
PEMBROKE.
I wou'd do more, much more, my Warwick: he
Who only pities but insults the wretched;
I come with nobler views, I come to tell thee,
That I have felt thy inj'ries as my own,
And will revenge them too.
WARWICK.
How kind thou art
To feel for Warwick!
PEMBROKE.
Ev'ry honest breast
Must feel the inj'ries that a good man suffers:
Thine is the common cause of all: adieu
To English freedom, when our liberty
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When years of honest service shall be paid
With infamy and chains.
WARWICK.
I've not deserv'd them.
PEMBROKE.
Nor shalt thou wear them long: for thou hast great
And pow'rful friends—the noble duke of Clarence.
Behold his signet—this, my Warwick, gain'd me
Admission here—we must be secret.
WARWICK.
Then I am not forsaken: Clarence!—Ha!
PEMBROKE.
Yes:
The gallant youth, with honest zeal, declar'd
He lov'd his brother much, but justice more.
WARWICK.
Then, Edward, I defy thee: gen'rous Clarence!
Thou know'st, the man who thus cou'd treat a friend,
Wou'd soon forget a brother—but say, Pembroke,
How stands the duke of Buckingham?
PEMBROKE.
Fast bound
To Edward; he and that smooth courtier Suffolk
Are the two rotten pillars that support
His tott'ring throne: but Marg'ret—
WARWICK.
Aye: how fares
My new ally? has she escaped the tyrant?
PEMBROKE.
She has: and by some wond'rous means contriv'd
To free her captive son.
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Tho' I abhor,
I must admire that enterprising woman:
Her active mind is ever on the wing
In search of fresh expedients, to recover
The crown she lost.
PEMBROKE.
Already she has rais'd
A pow'rful army; all the secret foes
Of York's ambitious line rush forth in crowds,
And join her standard: e'er to-morrow's sun
Shall dawn upon us, she will set thee free.
WARWICK.
O! Pembroke, nothing wounds the gen'rous mind
So deep as obligations to a foe.
Is there no way to liberty, my friend,
But through the bloody paths of civil war?
PEMBROKE.
I fear there is not.
WARWICK.
Then it must be so:
I cou'd have wish'd—but freedom and revenge
On any terms are welcome.
PEMBROKE.
Here then join we
Our hands—
WARWICK.
Our hearts.
PEMBROKE.
Now, Warwick, be thou firm
In thy resolves; let no unmanly fears,
No foolish fond remembrance of past friendship
Unnerve thy arm, or shake thy steady purpose.
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No: by my wrongs it shall not: once, thou know'st,
I lov'd him but too well, and these vile chains
Are my reward,—O give me but the use
Of this once pow'rful arm, and thou shalt see
How it shall punish falshood.—are thy forces
Prepar'd?
PEMBROKE.
They are, and wait but for my orders;
Clarence will join us soon: our first great end
Is to secure thy liberty; that done,
We haste to seize the palace and redeem
The fair Elizabeth.
WARWICK.
Redeem her, ha!
Is she a captive too?
PEMBROKE.
A willing slave;
A gay state pris'ner, left to roam at large
O'er the young monarch's palace.
WARWICK.
Aye, my Pembroke,
That's more inviting than a prison:—O
She's false, she's false—who sent her there?
PEMBROKE.
She came
It seems, to thank him for his royal bounties
To her good father, the new earl of Rivers,
Who will no doubt persuade her to accept—
WARWICK.
Of Edward's hand—distraction! fly, my friend,
Haste thee to Marg'ret, tell her if she hopes
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E'er Edward's ill-tim'd mercy shall prevent her.
PEMBROKE.
I go; my friend, adieu! when next we meet,
I hope to bring thee liberty.
WARWICK.
Farewel.
She's lost: she's gone: that base seducer Edward,
Hath wrought on her weak mind, it must be so.
SCENE III.
MESSENGER, WARWICK.MESSENGER.
My lord,
The lady Elizabeth.
WARWICK.
Amazement! sure
It cannot be! admit her sir—why, what
[Exit Mess.
Cou'd bring her here? Edward has sent her hither,
To see if I will crouch to him for pardon;
Be still, my jealous heart.—
SCENE IV.
ELIZABETH, WARWICK.ELIZABETH.
My Warwick!
WARWICK.
'Tis a grace I look'd not for,
That a fair fav'rite, who so late had tasted
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To visit thus a poor abandon'd captive.
ELIZABETH.
I come to take my portion of misfortune,
To pour the balm of comfort in, and heal
If possible, the wounds which I had made.
Too well I know, I was the fatal cause
Of all thy sorrows,—but the noble Edward,
For so indeed he is—
WARWICK.
And art thou come,
To plead the cause of him who sent me hither?
ELIZABETH.
I came to be the messenger of peace,
To calm thy troubled soul, and give thee rest,
To teach my Warwick to forget his wrongs.
WARWICK.
Forget my wrongs! was that thy errand here,
To teach me low submission to a tyrant;
To ask forgiveness, kneel and deprecate,
The wrath of blust'ring Edward? If thou com'st
On terms like these to bring me freedom, know
It will not be accepted: now I see
Thro' all your arts, by heav'n, I'd rather lose
A thousand lives, than owe one to his bounty.
ELIZABETH.
Either my Warwick is much chang'd, and so
I fear he is, or he wou'd never talk
Thus coldly to me, never wou'd despise
A life so precious, if he knew how much
Elizabeth had suffer'd to preserve it.
The gallant Edward won by my entreaties—
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Entreaties! didst thou then descend so low,
As to entreat him for me?
ELIZABETH.
Hadst thou seen,
When I implor'd him to forgive my Warwick,
How kind he look'd, how his repenting heart
Heav'd with the pangs of agonizing friendship,
Thou wou'd'st have pity'd him.
WARWICK.
Deceitful woman,
I see thy falshood now, I am betray'd,
And thou art leagu'd with Edward to destroy me.
Go to your royal lover and unite
Those only fit companions for each other,
A broken friendship, and a perjur'd love:
Give up discarded Warwick, and to make
The compact firm, cement it with my blood.
ELIZABETH.
I thought the soul of Warwick far above
Such mean suspicions—shall the man, whose truth,
Whose constancy, and love have been so long
My bright example, shall he stoop so low,
As thus to listen to an idle tale
Told by some prating courtier? if indeed
Thou cou'd'st believe it, I should pity thee.
WARWICK.
Where is your father, the new earl of Rivers?
Why sends he not his forces to our aid?
ELIZABETH.
He cannot: honour, gratitude, forbid,
That he shou'd lift up his rebellious arm
Against his benefactor! well thou know'st,
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He fought with Henry, and with Henry fell:
When injur'd Edward gen'rously forgave,
Restor'd his forfeit lands, and late advanc'd him
To rank and title.
WARWICK.
Infamy and shame;
The common nets which fearful knav'ry spreads
To catch ambition's fools: mean sordid bribes!
We know the treasure they were mean't to purchase.
ELIZABETH.
Unkind suggestion! how have I deserv'd it?
Have I for this refus'd a youthful monarch,
And spurn'd his offer'd sceptre at my feet,
To be reproach'd at last by cruel Warwick?
Had I once listen'd to him! had these eyes
Been dazzled with the splendor of a court,
I need not thus have chang'd it for a dungeon.
But since I am suspected, witness heav'n,
And witness Warwick to my vows! henceforth,
Dear as thou art, I cast thee from my love;
Elizabeth will never wed—a traitor.
WARWICK.
Am I awake, and did Elizabeth
Say she wou'd never wed her faithful Warwick?
Then bear me witness too, all judging heav'n!
Here yield I up all visionary dreams
Of future bliss, of liberty, or life,
Ev'n the sweet hope of vengeance that alone
Sustain'd my spirit, loses all its charms;
I wish'd for freedom but to purchase thine:
For life, but to enjoy it with my love,
And she disclaims me.
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Heav'n forbid! O Warwick,
Let not the tide of passion thus overwhelm
Thy reason.
WARWICK.
Can'st thou pardon me? thou know'st
Th'unguarded warmth, the weakness of my nature.
I wou'd not wrong thee, but I've been so oft
So cruelly deceiv'd—
ELIZABETH.
I know thou hast;
But never by Elizabeth.
WARWICK.
O no!
It is impossible that perfidy
Shou'd wear a form like thine.
(Looking at her.)
I wonder not
That Edward lov'd, no; when I look on thee,
All beauteous, all enchanting as thou art:
By heav'n! I think I cou'd almost forgive him.
ELIZABETH.
Then wherefore not be reconcil'd?
WARWICK.
To whom?
The author of my wrongs? It cannot be:
Know, I have promis'd Marg'ret to destroy him.
ELIZABETH.
Destroy thy friend! ungen'rous cruel Warwick,
Is't not enough that thou hast triumph'd here?
Already we have pierc'd his noble heart
With the keen pangs of disappointed love:
And woud'st thou wound his breast with added sorrows;
Wou'dst thou involve a nation in his ruin?
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Elizabeth, no more: alas! too well
Thou know'st, there is a pow'rful advocate
In Warwick's breast, that pleads for perjur'd Edward.
ELIZABETH.
Cherish the soft emotion: O my Warwick!—
WARWICK.
That angel form can never plead in vain;
But then, my friends—where is my solemn vow
To Marg'ret, and to Pembroke? there's the tie;
My honour's dearer to me—
ELIZABETH.
Than thy love;
Dearer, much dearer, than Elizabeth?
But I have done: farewel, my lord, I see
Thy deep resentment is not to be mov'd
By my weak influence o'er thee.
(Going.)
WARWICK.
Stay, I charge thee.
ELIZABETH.
What is this phantom, honour, this proud idol
That tramples thus on ev'ry humble virtue?
This cruel bloody Molock, that delights
In human sacrifice? O! wou'd to heav'n
I were its only victim! but with me,
You offer up your country and your king.
WARWICK.
Think on my vow, think on my promise giv'n.
ELIZABETH.
Thy league with Marg'ret must be fatal: grant
We should succeed, and Lancaster once more
Assume the throne; how dear the victory,
That's purchas'd, with our fellow-subjects blood!
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But if we fail—
WARWICK.
Impossible!
ELIZABETH.
O! think
Betimes! what dreadful punishments await
The vanquish'd rebel: thou, perhaps, my love,
Shalt then be doom'd on th'ignominious block
To fall inglorious; and, when thou art gone,
Who shall defend thy poor Elizabeth?
WARWICK.
Alarming thought! It staggers my firm purpose,
And makes me half a villain.
SCENE V.
WARWICK, ELIZABETH, an Officer.OFFICER.
Madam, the king demands your presence, I
Have orders to convey you to the palace.
WARWICK.
And wilt thou leave me?
ELIZABETH.
This, my Warwick, this
Is the decisive moment, now determine,
Accept of mercy, e'er it be too late;
E'er hasty Edward—Shall, I say, thou wilt
Return to thy obedience, and receive
Thy pardon? shall I? speak my love.
WARWICK.
Perhaps
I may accept it, if 'tis brought by thee.
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Then we shall meet in happiness—
WARWICK.
Farewel!
SCENE VI.
WARWICK.Now to those worst companions in affliction,
My own sad thoughts again, they're gloomy all,
And like my habitation full of horror.
I like not Edward's message—if he hears
My league with Margaret, he still has pow'r
To make me feel his rage: I have deserv'd it—
[a trampling heard without.
Methought I heard a noise—this way they come,
Perhaps it is the messenger of death—
SCENE VII.
PEMBROKE, WARWICK.PEMBROKE.
The messenger of vengeance—see her sword;
Accept it and be free.
(offers the sword)
WARWICK.
First let me know
To whom I am indebted for't.
PEMBROKE.
To me.
Soon as the rumour of thy foul disgrace
Had reach'd the public ear, th'impatient people
Uncertain of thy fate, tumultuous throng'd
Around the palace, and demanded thee;
Give us our Warwick, give us back, they cry'd
Our hero, our deliv'rer—I step'd forth
And bade them, instant, if they wish'd to save
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To follow me: transported they obey'd:
I led them hither: forced the prison gates,
And brought thee this—direct it as thou wilt.
(Gives the sword.)
WARWICK.
Welcome once more, thou dearest gift of heav'n
Immortal liberty! my friend, I thank thee.
O Pembroke, woud'st thou had'st been here! my love,
My dear Elizabeth is true.
PEMBROKE.
At least
You think so.
WARWICK.
She has told me such sweet truths;
Edward repents him sorely, he is griev'd
At his ingratitude.
PEMBROKE.
And well he may;
I fear thou art betray'd: alas! my Warwick,
Thy open gen'rous unsuspecting virtue
Thinks ev'ry heart as honest as thy own.
Thou know'st not Edward—nor Elizabeth.
The Kingdom is in arms, and ev'ry hour,
It is expected France will join the queen:
England will want its great protector's aid.
Edward and Rivers have conspired to cheat
Thy credulous ear, and who so fit to spread
The flimsy web as thy Elizabeth,
Their fair ambassadress? I see thou'rt caught.
WARWICK.
By heav'n! it may be so: I am the sport
Of fortune and of fraud.
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Away, my friend:
It is not now a time to think of her:
Marg'ret, supported by thy pow'rful name,
And join'd by Clarence, waits us at the head
Of fifteen thousand men, who, eager all
To crush a tyrant, and pull down oppression,
Attend thy wish'd-for presence; not a soldier
Will act or move till Warwick shall direct them.
Edward and England's fate depend on thee.
WARWICK.
Away my friend, I'll follow thee.
[Exit Pembroke.
Yet stop
A moment—let not passion hurry me
To base dishonour—if my country calls
For Warwick's aid, shall I not hear her voice,
And save her? Pembroke may have private views,
And subtle Marg'ret too—Elizabeth!
I must not lose thee—O! direct me heav'n!
End of the Fourth Act.
| The Earl of Warwick | |