 | The Earl of Warwick |  |
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ACT V.
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!
SCENE II.
ELIZABETH, SUFFOLK.SUFFOLK.
The pray'r of innocence is always heard.
ELIZABETH.
Ha! Suffolk, whither hast'st thou? art thou come—
SUFFOLK.
I come to heal thy sorrows, lovely fair one,
To tell thee, Edward, and thy much-lov'd Warwick,
Once more are friends.
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Indeed! O welcome news!
My joy's too great for utt'rance: tell me, Suffolk,
How was it? speak, is Warwick safe? O heav'n!
SUFFOLK.
A moment's patience, and I'll tell thee all.
Marg'ret, thou know'st, had rais'd a pow'rful force,
That doubled Edward's troops: elate with pride,
And almost sure of victory, she urg'd
The tardy spearmen; on they rush'd, as if
Secure of conquest: the unhappy king
Stood nobly firm, and seem'd to brave his fate,
When Warwick like a guardian god appear'd:
His noble mien and all-commanding look
Struck deep attention; ev'ry eye was bent
Upon him, and an awful silence reign'd
O'er either host, he rais'd his voice on high,
And stop, he cry'd, your sacrilegious hands,
Nor touch my friend: who pierces Edward's breast,
Must pass through mine: I rais'd him to the throne,
And will support him there: to you I gave,
From you my fellow-soldiers I expect him:
Howe'er his cruel wrongs have wounded me,
He never injur'd you, and, I—forgive him.
He spake, and instant thro' the gazing croud
A murmur ran; down dropp'd their nerveless arms,
As if enchanted by some magic pow'r,
And with one voice they cry'd, long live king Edward!
ELIZABETH.
How pow'rful is the tongue of eloquence,
When in the cause of virtue!—well, what follow'd?
SUFFOLK.
Encourag'd by the shouting soldiers, Edward
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Yet fearful, Warwick with a bridegroom's speed
To meet him flew; into each other's arms
They ran with speechless joy: the tender scene
Affected ev'ry heart, and the rough soldier,
Unused to melting sympathy, forgot
His ruthless nature, and dissolv'd in tears.
ELIZABETH.
Sweet reconcilement! then, Elizabeth,
Thou didst not plead in vain; but, say, how brook'd
The haughty queen this unexpected change?
SUFFOLK.
Abash'd, confounded, for a while she strove
To stem the torrent, but in vain; then fled
Precipitate.
ELIZABETH.
But where, O where's my Warwick?
SUFFOLK.
With a few chosen squadrons he pursues
The disappointed Marg'ret.
ELIZABETH.
O my fears!
I know not why, but at that hateful name
I tremble ever, my foreboding heart
Presages something dreadful.
SUFFOLK.
Do not vex
Thy tender mind with visionary dangers.
ELIZABETH.
O! wou'd to heav'n that he were shelter'd here,
And safe within these arms!
SUFFOLK.
Be not alarm'd:
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All bad ones fear him.
ELIZABETH.
Such superior merit
Must have a thousand foes, the constant mark
Of envy's poison'd darts.
SUFFOLK.
There Suffolk feels
The keen reproach; with blushes I confess
There was a time, when, urg'd by fond ambition,
I look'd on Warwick with a jealous eye:
But this last noble deed hath won my heart,
And I am now a convert to his virtues;
But see, the king approaches.
SCENE III.
EDWARD, ELIZABETH.EDWARD.
Health and peace,
And happiness to fair Elizabeth!
Thou art no stranger to the joyful news;
The lustre of those speaking eyes declares it.
ELIZABETH.
Suffolk, ev'n now, hath bless'd me with the tidings.
EDWARD.
O! 'tis amazement all: Elizabeth,
When last we met, thou wert the suppliant, now
'Tis I must ask forgiveness, I who injur'd
The dearest, best of men; O! thou hast sav'd
Edward from shame, and England from destruction.
ELIZABETH.
Did I not say my Warwick wou'd be just?
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Thou did'st, and on those beauteous lips fair truth
And soft persuasion dwell; long time he stood
Inflexible, and deaf to friendship's voice,
Listen'd to nought but all subduing love.
In after-times, thy name shall be enroll'd
Amongst the great deliv'rer's of their country.
ELIZABETH.
I have no title to the lavish praise
Thy gen'rous heart bestows; I only said
What duty prompted, and what love inspir'd;
Indulgent heav'n has crown'd it with success.
EDWARD.
Thou hast done all: I am indebted to thee
For more, much more than I can e'er repay.
Long time, with shame, I own, hath Warwick soar'd
Above me, but I will not be outdone
For ever by this proud aspiring rival:
Poor as I am, there yet is one way left
To pay the debt of gratitude I owe him,
One great reward for such exalted virtues,
Thyself, Elizabeth.
ELIZABETH.
What means my lord,
My royal master?
EDWARD.
Yes; when next we meet
I will bestow it on him, will resign
All my fond claim to happiness and thee;
Tho' thy dear image ne'er can be effac'd
From Edward's breast, tho' still I doat upon thee,
Tho' I could hang for ever on thy beauties;
Yet will I yield them to their rightful lord;
Warwick has earn'd, Warwick alone deserves them.
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Wou'd he were here to thank thee for thy goodness!
Know, gen'rous prince, Elizabeth has long
Admir'd thy virtues, and cou'd love admit
Of a divided heart, the noble Edward
Wou'd share it with his friend.
SCENE IV.
MESSENGER, EDWARD.MESSENGER.
My royal liege,
The rebels are dispers'd, queen Marg'ret's son
Was slain in the pursuit—and she—
EDWARD.
I hope
Secur'd—
MESSENGER.
Is taken pris'ner, and will soon
Be here—
EDWARD.
But where's lord Warwick?
MESSENGER.
Sir—the queen—
SCENE V.
MARGARET Prisoner.MARGARET.
Once more I am your pris'ner.
EDWARD.
'Twill be prudent
Henceforth to keep you so.
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You dare not!
Thou think'st, perhaps, that I shall sue to thee
For mercy: no; in Marg'ret of Anjou,
Thou see'st the wife, and daughter of a king.
A spirit not to be subdu'd; tho fall'n
Triumphant still, and tho' a pris'ner free.
For know, I bear a mind above the reach
Of fortune or of Edward—I have lost
All I cou'd wish to live for in my child;
And gain'd what most I wish'd to gain, revenge!
Or life or death are now indiff'rent to me.
EDWARD.
For thy unbounded goodness, pow'r supreme
Accept our praise!
ELIZABETH.
(kneeling)
Accept our humble pray'r!
MARGARET.
Insulting piety! the common trick
Of hypocrites and slaves: when ye shall know
What Marg'ret knows, ye may not be so thankful.
Methinks 'tis pity Warwick is not here
To join in your devotion.
ELIZABETH.
Wou'd to heav'n
He were!
MARGARET.
That monster, that perfidious slave
Who broke his faith to Marg'ret, and to thee;
Thy coward soul, unable to defend
The treasure thou hadst stol'n, cou'd meanly stoop
To court the traitor whom thou dar'st not punish.
Not so the injur'd Marg'ret—she repell'd
The wrongs she felt, and the deceiver met
The sate he merited.
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What fate?—ev'n now
Crown'd with immortal wreaths, the hero comes
To bless his friends, and punish guilt like thine.
MARGARET.
Proud and deluded wretches! I look down
With pity on you: Captive as I am,
'Tis mine to judge and punish; be it yours
To hear and tremble.
EDWARD.
Ha!
ELIZABETH.
What can this mean?
MARGARET.
If I mistake not, Warwick is your friend,
Your lover too, I think.
ELIZABETH.
My lord, my husband.
MARGARET.
Know then, that friend, that lover, perjur'd Warwick,
Hath not an hour to live.
EDWARD.
What murth'rous hand—
MARGARET.
Mine, tyrant mine: think not I mean to hide
The noble deed; it is my happiness,
It is my glory: thou wilt call me base,
Blood-thirsty, cruel, savage, and revengeful.
But here I stand acquitted to myself,
And ev'ry feeling heart that knows my wrongs.—
To late posterity dethroned queens,
And weeping mothers shall applaud my justice.
EDWARD.
Justice, on whom?
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Can Edward ask me? who
Imprison'd Henry, rob'd me of a crown,
And plac'd it on a proud usurper's head?
Who gave his sacred promise to a queen,
And broke it? who, for which indignant heav'n
Chastis'd him, basely murther'd my sweet boy?
Bereft of honour, fortune, husband, child,
Depriv'd of ev'ry comfort, what remain'd
For me but vengeance, what for him but death?
EDWARD.
What hast thou done? when? where? speak, murthress, speak.
MARGARET.
Press'd by surrounding multitudes, and made
A slave, they dragg'd me to the conqu'ror's tent,
There the first horrid object I beheld,
Was the pale corse of my poor bleeding child:
There—as th'insulting Warwick stood, and seem'd
To triumph o'er him—from my breast I drew
A ponyard forth, and plung'd it in his heart.
Th'astonish'd soldiers throng'd around him, seiz'd
And brought me here—now to your pray'rs again.
EDWARD.
[Elizabeth faints.
She faints, good Suffolk, help there, help, support
Assist her.—lead her in.
[Exit Elizabeth.
If it be true,
As much I fear it is, a thousand deaths
Were punishment too little for thy guilt;
Thou shalt be tortur'd.
MARGARET.
Tyrant, I defy thee;
Thy threats appall not me: prepare your tortures,
Let them be sharp and cruel as thyself,
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Or pow'r inflict, 'twill be my comfort still,
They cannot be so great as those you feel.
EDWARD.
Guards, take the monster hence, let her be chain'd
In some deep dungeon, dark as her own thoughts,
There let her perish—hence, away with her.
MARGARET.
Despair, and horror visit thee—farewell—
He comes, my triumph is complete—look there!
SCENE VI.
WARWICK, leaning on two soldiers.WARWICK.
Where is he? lead me, lead me to my king.
EDWARD.
My Warwick! my preserver!—she shall bleed
For this in ev'ry vein.
WARWICK.
Think not of her,
She has no pow'r to hurt thee; and with guilt
Like hers, 'tis punishment enough to live:
This is no time for vengeance; death comes on
With hasty strides, 'tis but a little while,
A few short moments, and we part for ever.
My friend—
EDWARD.
I am not worthy of the name,
For I disgrac'd, dishonour'd, murther'd thee;
Edward's unkindness was the cause of all:
Can'st thou forgive me?
WARWICK.
O! may Warwick's crimes
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If from my soul, I do not pardon, love,
And honour thee!
EDWARD.
Away, let me support him;
'Tis the last office I shall e'er perform
For thee, my Warwick—wilt thou lean upon me
And seal my pardon with one kind embrace?
WARWICK.
We never hated.
EDWARD.
But my love was blind.
WARWICK.
And blinder my resentment.
EDWARD.
I forgot
Thy services.
WARWICK.
And I remember'd not
Thou wert my king—my sweet Elizabeth,
Where is she? Edward, do not keep her from me,
We are no rivals now.
EDWARD.
Shock'd at the news
Of thy untimely fate, she sunk beneath it,
And fainted in these arms; I seiz'd th'occasion,
And bade her weeping maidens bear her hence:
This would have been a dreadful sight indeed.
ELIZABETH.
without.
I can, I will, support it.
WARWICK.
Ha! that voice—
Sure 'tis Elizabeth's!
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SCENE the last.
ELIZABETH, WARWICK, EDWARD.ELIZABETH.
O! give me way,
For I must see him—O! my Warwick!
WARWICK.
O!
This is too much, the bitterness of death
Is to be sever'd thus from those we love.
EDWARD.
Why wou'd you bring her here!
(to the attendants.)
WARWICK.
Elizabeth,
Be comforted.
ELIZABETH.
O no, it is my doom
Never to taste of joy or comfort more:
No; from this hateful world will I retire,
And mourn my Warwick's fate, imploring heav'n
That I may soon wear out my little store
Of hopeless days, and join thee in the tomb.
WARWICK.
That must not be: I've done my friend a wrong,
And only thou can'st make atonement for it.
Thy hand, Elizabeth, if e'er thou lov'st,
Observe me now—thine, Edward—for my sake
Cherish this beauteous mourner, take her from me,
As the last present of a dying friend.
EDWARD.
If ought cou'd make the precious gift more dear,
It wou'd be Warwick, that it came from thee.
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From every ill, watch over and protect her;
And when the memory of thee shall awake,
As oft it will, her poignant griefs, repel
The rising sigh, wipe off the flowing tear,
And strive to charm her to forgetfulness.
WARWICK.
Wilt thou indeed? then I shall die in peace.
ELIZABETH.
Yet thou may'st live.
WARWICK.
Impossible:—I feel
The hand of death press cold upon my heart,
And all will soon be o'er:—I've liv'd to save
My falling country, to repent my crimes,
Redeem my honour, and restore my king.
EDWARD.
Alas! my friend, the memory of thee
Will poison every bliss.
WARWICK.
All-healing time
That closes ev'ry wound, shall pour it's balm
O'er thine.—mean-while, remember Warwick's fate.—
I gave my word to Margaret, and broke it;
Heav'n is not to be mock'd, it soon o'ertakes us,
And in our crime we meet our punishment.
O Edward, if thou hop'st that length of days,
And fair prosperity shall crown thy wishes,
Beware of passion, and resentment—make
Thy people's good and happiness thy own,
Discourage faction, banish flatt'rers, keep
Thy faith inviolate, and reign in peace.
I can no more—my love! have mercy heav'n!
(dies.)
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He's gone!—
ELIZABETH.
And with him all my hopes of bliss.
EDWARD.
Let ev'ry honour to a soldier due,
Attend the hero to his tomb—mean-while,
Deep in the living tablet of my heart,
Will I engrave thy words—illustrious shade!
Living thou wert my counsellor and friend,
And dead I will remember, and obey thee.
ELIZABETH.
Warwick farewel, I shall not long survive thee.
EDWARD.
I hope thou wilt—Elizabeth, remember
His dying charge, think on thy promise giv'n.
Thou shall remain with me, with me lament
Our common benefactor; we will sit
And talk together of my Warwick's virtues,
For I will try to emulate them all,
And learn, by copying him, to merit thee.
His great example shall inspire my breast
With patriot zeal, shall teach me to subdue
The pow'r of faction, vanquish party rage,
And make me, what alone I wish to be,
The happy king of an united people.
FINIS.
| The Earl of Warwick | |