 | The Earl of Warwick |  |
1
ACT I.
SCENE I.
MARGARET of ANJOU, Lady CLIFFORD.CLIFFORD.
Thanks! gracious heav'n, my royal mistress smiles,
Unusual gladness sparkles in her eye,
And bids me welcome in the stranger joy
To his new mansion.
MARGARET.
Yes, My faithful Clifford,
Fortune is weary of oppressing me:
Through my dark cloud of grief, a chearful ray
Of light breaks forth, and gilds the whole horison.
CLIFFORD.
Henry in chains, and Edward on the throne
Of Lancaster, thyself a pris'ner here,
Thy captive son torn from his mother's arms,
And in the tyrant's pow'r, a kingdom lost:
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Hath wrought this wond'rous change?
MARGARET.
That which alone
In sorrow's bitt'rest hour, can minister
Sweet comfort to the daughters of affliction,
And bid misfortune smile, the hope of vengeance:
Vengeance, benignant patron of distress,
Thee I have oft invoked, propitious now
Thou smil'st upon me, if I do not grasp
The glorious opportunity, henceforth
Indignant frown, and leave me to my fate!
CLIFFORD.
Unhappy Princess! that deceiver hope
Hath often flatter'd, and as oft betray'd thee:
What hast thou gain'd by all its promises?
What's the reward of all thy toils?
MARGARET.
Experience—
Yes, Clifford, I have read th'instructive volume
Of human nature, there long since have learn'd
The way to conquer men is by their passions;
Catch but the ruling foible of their hearts,
And all their boasted virtues shrink before you.
Edward and Warwick, those detested names,
Too well thou know'st, united to destroy me.
CLIFFORD.
That was indeed a fatal league.
MARGARET.
But mark me;
If we cou'd break this adamantine chain,
We might again be free: this mighty warrior,
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Is plighted to the fair Elizabeth.
CLIFFORD.
The lady Gray, you mean, the beauteous widow,
Whose husband fell in arms for Lancaster.
MARGARET.
The same, my Clifford—Warwick long has lov'd—
CLIFFORD.
And means to wed her.
MARGARET.
But if I have art,
Or she ambition, that shall never be.
CLIFFORD.
Can'st thou prevent it?
MARGARET.
Yes, my Clifford, Warwick
Were a mean choice for such transcendent beauty;
I shall provide her with a fitter husband,
A nobler far, and worthier of her charms,
Young Edward.—
CLIFFORD.
Ha! the king! impossible!
Warwick, ev'n now, commission'd by the state,
To treat with Lewis, offers England's throne
To France's daughter, and e'er this, perhaps,
Hath sign'd the solemn contract.
MARGARET.
Solemn trifles!
Mere cobweb ties—Love's a despotic tyrant,
And laughs, like other kings, at public faith,
When it opposes private happiness:
Edward is youthful, gay, and amorous;
His soul is ever open to the lure
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Might shake a hermit's virtue.
CLIFFORD.
Hath he seen
This peerless fair one?
MARGARET.
Yes,—by my contrivance,
When last he hunted in the forest, some,
Whom I had planted there, as if by chance
Alone directed, led him cross the lawn
To Grafton, there—ev'n as my soul had wish'd,
The dazzling lustre of her charms surpris'd
His unsuspecting heart—
CLIFFORD.
What follow'd?
MARGARET.
O!
He gaz'd and wonder'd; for a while his pride
Indignant rose, and struggled with his passion,
But love was soon victorious: and last night,
The earl of Suffolk, so my trusty spies
Inform me, was dispatch'd on wings of love,
To plead his master's cause, and offer her
The throne of England.
CLIFFORD.
What if she refuse
The golden bribe?
MARGARET.
No matter; all I wish
Is but to make them foes: the gen'rous Warwick
Is fiery, and impatient of reproof,
He will not brook a rival in his love
Though seated on a throne; besides, thou know'st,
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As the mere work of his all-pow'rful hand,
The baby monarch of his own creation.
CLIFFORD.
Believe me, madam, Edward still reveres
And loves him, still as conscious of the debt,
Pays him with trust and confidence; their souls
Are link'd together in the strictest bonds
Of sacred friendship.
MARGARET.
That but serves my cause:
Where ties are close, and interests united,
The slightest inj'ries are severely felt;
Offended friendship never can forgive.
CLIFFORD.
Now the full prospect opens to my view,
I see thy distant aim, and trace the paths
Of vengeance: England soon will be a scene
Of blood and horror, discord's fatal torch
Once lit up it in this devoted land,
What pow'r shall e'er extinguish it? alas!
I tremble at the consequence.
MARGARET.
And I
Enjoy it:—O! 'twill be a noble contest
Of pride 'gainst pride, oppression 'gainst oppression;
Rise but the storm, and let the waves beat high,
The wreck may be our own: in the warm struggle,
Who knows but one or both of them may fall,
And Marg'ret rise triumphant on their ruin!
It must be so; and see the king approaches:
This way he passes from the council—mark
His down-cast eye, he is a stricken deer,
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We'll meet and speak to him.
CLIFFORD.
What mean you, madam?
MARGARET.
To ask him—what, I know, he will refuse;
That gives me fair pretext to break with him,
And join the man I hate, vindictive Warwick;
But soft, he comes—
SCENE II.
KING EDWARD, MARGARET, CLIFFORD, Officer.EDWARD.
Is Suffolk yet return'd?
(to an Officer.)
OFFICER.
No, my good liege.
EDWARD.
Go, wait and bring him to me,
[Ex. Of.
I'll to my closet.
Pardon me, fair lady,
I saw you not.
MARGARET.
Perhaps it is beneath
A conqu'ror to look down upon his slave;
But I've a boon to ask.
EDWARD.
Whate'er it is,
Within the limits of fair courtesy,
Which honour can bestow, I'll not refuse thee.
MARGARET.
There was a time when Margaret of Anjou
Wou'd not have deign'd to ask of Edward ought;
Nor was there ought which Edward dar'd refuse her;
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And I am now your pris'ner.
EDWARD.
Since the hour,
When fortune smil'd propitious on the cause
Of justice, and gave vict'ry to our arms;
You have been treated with all due respect,
All your condition, or your sex cou'd claim;
Serv'd like a queen, and lodg'd within our palace:
Is there ought more you can with reason ask,
Or I in prudence grant you.
MARGARET.
Give me back
The liberty I lost, restore my son,
And I may then, perhaps, be reconcil'd
To un usurper, may with-hold my vengeance,
And let thee sit unpunish'd on—my throne.
EDWARD.
You talk too proudly, madam; but to shew you
I cannot fear, you have your liberty.
Letters this morning I receiv'd from France,
Have offer'd noble ransom for your person;
Without that ransom—for the soul of Edward
Is far above the sordid lust of gold,
I grant it—from this moment you are free;
But for your son—I cannot part with him.
MARGARET.
I scorn your bounties, scorn your proffer'd freedom,
What's liberty to me without my child?
But fate will place us soon above thy reach,
Thy short-liv'd tyranny is almost past,
The storm is gath'ring round thee, and will burst
With ten-fold vengeance on thy guilty head.
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I am not to be talk'd into submission,
Nor dread the menace of a clam'rous woman.
MARGARET.
Thou may'st have cause to dread a woman's pow'r.
The time may come—mark my prophetic word—
When wayward beauty shall repay with scorn
Thy fruitless vows, and vindicate my wrongs:
The friend thou lean'st on, like a broken reed,
Shall pierce thy side, and fill thy soul with anguish,
Keen as the pangs I feel: York's perjur'd house
Shall sink to rise no more, and Lancaster
With added lustre re-assume the throne.
Hear this and tremble—give me back my son—
Or dread the vengeance of a desp'rate mother.
SCENE III.
EDWARD.Imperious woman! but the voice of woe
Is ever clam'rous: 'tis the privilege,
The charter of affliction to complain.—
This tardy Suffolk! how I long to know
Yet dread to hear my fate! Elizabeth,
On thee the colour of my future life
Depends, for thou alone can'st make me blest,
Or curs'd for ever:—O! this cruel doubt
Is worse than all my tortures: but he comes,
Th'ambassador of love.
SCENE IV.
EDWARD, Earl of SUFFOLK.EDWARD.
What news, my Suffolk?
Shall I be happy? O! I'm on the rack
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As if it were thy own, and may I hope—
SUFFOLK.
My royal liege.
EDWARD.
Good Suffolk, lay aside
The forms of dull respect, be brief, and tell me,
Speak, hast thou seen her, will she be my queen?
Quick, tell me ev'ry circumstance, each word,
Each look, each gesture; didst thou mark them, Suffolk?
SUFFOLK.
I did, and will recount it all;—last night.
By your command, in secret I repair'd
To Grafton's tufted bow'r, the happy seat
Of innocence and beauty, there I found
Thy soul's best hope, the fair Elizabeth,
Ne'er did these eyes behold such sweet perfection:
I found her busy'd in the pious office
Of filial duty, tending her sick father.
EDWARD.
That was a lucky moment, to prefer
My humble suit: touch but the tender string
Of soft compassion in the heart, and love
Will quickly vibrate to its kindred passion;
You urg'd our royal purpose, then?
SUFFOLK.
I did,
With all the warmth of friendship, dwelt with pleasure
On ev'ry princely virtue that adorns
Your noble heart; she listen'd with attention,
And echo'd back your praises.
EDWARD.
Was not that
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SUFFOLK.
Such indeed
Hoping to find it, I call'd in the pow'rs
Of flattery to my aid, and gaz'd upon her,
As if confounded by her dazling beauties—
Conscious she smil'd; but when, at length, I spake
Of England's monarch sighing at her feet—
The blush of virgin modesty o'erspread
Her cheek, and gave new lustre to her charms:
She turned aside, and as she silent bow'd
Her doubtful thanks, I mark'd the pearly tear
Steal down its secret track, and from her breast
Heard a deep sigh, she struggled to conceal;
If I have any judgment, or can trace
The hidden feelings of a woman's heart,
Her's is already fix'd: I fear, my liege,
With all that England, all that thou coud'st give,
The crown wou'd fit but heavy on her brow.
EDWARD.
Not heavier, Suffolk, than it fits on mine:
My throne is irksome to me; who wou'd wish
To be a sov'reign, when Elizabeth
Prefers a subject?—Then th'impetuous Warwick,
His awful virtue will chastise my weakness.
I dread his censure, dread his keen reproaches,
And dread them more because they will be just.
I've promis'd Lewis to espouse his daughter,
To strengthen our alliance: wou'd to heav'n
I had not! If I seek this coy refuser,
And break with France, Warwick will take th'alarm;
If once offended, he's inexorable.
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I know him well—Believe me, Sir, the high
And haughty spirit, when it meets rebuke,
Is easiest check'd, and sinks into submission.
Let him, my liege, who ventures to arraign
His master's conduct, look into his own:
There ever is a corner in the heart
Open to folly; Warwick is not free
From human frailties.
EDWARD.
No: ambition fires
His noble breast, love triumphs over mine:
But well thou know'st, our eyes are ever open
To other's faults, and shut against our own.
We seldom pity woes we ne'er experienc'd,
Or pardon weakness which we do not feel:
He is a hero.
SUFFOLK.
Hero's are but men;
I have some cause to think so—but of that
We'll talk another time: mean while my liege,
I think lord Warwick is a useful friend.
EDWARD.
Aye, and a dangerous foe; the people love,
To adoration love him; if he falls
From his allegiance, crouds will follow him.
England has long been rent by civil broils,
And fain wou'd rest her in the arms of peace:
Her wounds scarce clos'd, shall Edward open them,
And bid them bleed a-fresh? believe me, Suffolk,
I wou'd not be the cause of new divisions
Amongst my people, for a thousand kingdoms.
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'Tis nobly said, and may thy grateful subjects,
Revere thy virtues, and reward thy love!
EDWARD.
O! Suffolk, did they know but half the cares
That wait on royalty, they wou'd not grudge
Their wretched master a few private hours
Of social happiness.—If France consents,
I am undone: and Warwick hath e'er this
Enslav'd me: curse on this state policy,
That binds us thus to love at second hand!
Who knows but he may link me to a wretch;
Wed me to folly, ignorance, and pride,
Ill-nature, sickness, or deformity;
And when I'm chain'd to mis'ry, coldly tell me;
To sooth my griefs, 'twas for the public good.
SUFFOLK.
How far you have commission'd him, I know not,
But were I worthy to advise, my liege,
I wou'd not be the dupe of his ambition,
But follow natures dictates, and be happy.
England has charms besides Elizabeth's,
And beauties that—
EDWARD.
No more; my heart is fix'd
On her alone; find out this pow'rful rival,
I charge thee, Suffolk: yet why wish to find,
What found will make me wretched? were he bound
In cords of tend'rest friendship round my heart,
Dearer than Warwick, dearer than thyself,
Forgive me, but I fear I shou'd abhor him.
O think on something that may yet be done,
To win her to my heart e'er Warwick comes.
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I hear he is expected every hour.
EDWARD.
Grant heav'n some friendly storm may yet retard him!
I dread his presence here.
SCENE IV.
MESSENGER, EDWARD, SUFFOLK.MESSENGER.
My liege, the earl
Of Warwick, is arriv'd.
EDWARD.
Ha! when? how? where?
Wou'd he were bury'd in the rapid waves
That brought him hither! comes he here to night?
MESSENGER.
My liege, e'er now he might have reach'd the palace,
But that the shouting multitudes press hard
On ev'ry side, and seem to worship him.
SCENE V.
SUFFOLK, EDWARD.SUFFOLK.
Such adoration
But ill befits the idol, that receives it.
EDWARD.
What's to be done? I cannot, must not see him,
Till all is fix'd: once more, my best-lov'd Suffolk;
Try the soft arts of thy persuasive tongue:
What method can'st thou think on, to evade
This promis'd marriage with ambitious France?
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Summon your council, lay your thoughts before them,
Meet Warwick there, and urge a sov'reigns right,
To please himself in that which shou'd concern
Himself alone—firm Buckingham and I
Will plead your cause against the haughty Warwick,
Whom I wou'd treat with cold civility,
And distant state which ever angers more
Resentful spirits, than the warmth of passion.
EDWARD.
'Tis well advis'd:—mean-time if possible,
I will compose my troubled thoughts to rest:
Suffolk, adieu: if Warwick asks for me,
I am not well, I'm hunting in the forest—
I'm busy—stay—remember what I told you,
Touching the earldom which I mean to give
Her father; that may bring her to the court;
You understand me, Suffolk—fare thee well.
SCENE VI.
EDWARD.Why shou'd I dread to see the man I love—
The man I rev'rence—Warwick is not chang'd,
But Edward is—Suffolk, I know, abhors him—
A fav'rite must be hated—if he urges
This dreadful contract, I shall hate him too:
I cannot live without Elizabeth:
I'll think no more—if I must sacrifice
My friendship or my love—the choice is made.
End of the First Act.
| The Earl of Warwick | |