Pemb. My lord of Suffolk, speak

But for yourself; Warwick has 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 tie shall bind
The subject to obedience, when his king,
Bankrupt in honour, gives the royal sanction
To perfidy and falsehood?

Buck. It becomes

But ill the Earl of Pembroke

King E. Good my lords,

Let us have no dissensions 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 breaks up, and disperses. King E. [Coming 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;
Meanwhile, if you have friendship, love, or duty,
No more of Bona-I'm determin'd.

Warw. So

"Tis well-'tis very well-I have descrv'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 aught to ask

[Exit.

Of me, she comes in luckless hour, for I

Am pow'rless now.

Enter MARGARET OF ANJOU.

Warw. Will Margaret of Anjou,
Thus deign to visit her acknowledg'd foe?
Marg. Alas, my lord! inur'd to wretchedness
As I am, and familiar with misfortune,
I harbour no resentment; have long since
Forgot that Warwick ever was my foe,
And only wish to prove myself his friend.
Warw. Talk not of friendship, 'tis an empty name,
And lives but in idea; once, indeed,
I thought I had a friend.-

Marg. Whose name was-Edward;
Read I aright, my lord, and am I not
A shrewd diviner? Yes, that downcast eye
And gloomy aspect say I am: you

look

As if the idol made by your own hands,

Had fall'n upon, and crush'd you-is't not so ?
Come, come, I know it is.

Warw. Amazement! naught escapes thy piercing eye,

And penetrating judgment: 'tis too true;

I am a poor, disgrac'd, dishonour'd slave,

Not worth thy seeking; leave me; for the tide

Of court preferment flows another way.

Marg. The feast, perhaps, you have provided, suits

not

With Edward's nicer palate; he disdains,

How sweet soe'er, to taste a foreign banquet,
And relishes no dainties but his own:-
Am I again mistaken?

Warw. Sure, thou deal'st

With some all-knowing spirit, who imparts

Each secret purpose to thee, else, how knew'st thou That Edward had refus'd to wed the princess?..

Marg. O, it requires no supernatural aid
To trace his actions, nor has Margret trod
The paths of life with unobserving eye;

I could have told you this long since; for know,
The choice is made,

And, but for your return, as unexpected,
As undesir'd, had been, ere this, complete;
And, as in duty bound, you then had paid
Your due obedience to our-English queen.
Warw. Determin'd, say'st thou? Gracious Heaven!
'tis well

I am return'd.

Marg. 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.

Warw. Margret, I thank thee-yes, it must be so;
His blushes, his confusion, all confirm it,
And yet I am amaz'd, astonished.

Marg. Wherefore?

Is it so strange, a mind, unfraught with wisdom,
And lifted high with proud prosperity,

Should follow pleasure, through the crooked paths
Of falsehood, should forsake a useless friend,
For the warm joys of animating beauty?

Warw. No; but was it like a friend-
Was it like Edward, to conceal his love?
Some base, insinuating, artful woman,
With borrow'd charms, perhaps

Marg. 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.
Warw. Know you the lady?

Marg. But as fame reports,

Of peerless beauty, and transcendent charms,
But, for her virtue-I must ask of—you.

D

Warw. Of me? What virtues? Whose?

Marg. Elizabeth's.

Warw. Amazement? no, it must not, cannot be ! Elizabeth! he could not, dare not do it! Confusion! I shall soon discover all ! But what have I to do with Edward's choice, Whoe'er she be, if he refuses mine?

[Aside.

Marg. 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, Should 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?

Warw. Margret, 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

Marg. Lord Suffolk was last night despatch'd to Grafton,

To offer her a share in Edward's throne.

Warw. Which she refus'd, did she not, Margret? say

She did.

Marg. I know not that, my lord, but crowns
Are dazzling meteors in a woman's eye:
Such strong temptations, few of us, I fear,

Have virtue to resist.

Warw. Elizabeth

Has ev'ry virtue. I'll not doubt her faith.
Marg. Edward is young, and handsome.
Waru. Curses on him!

Think'st thou, he knew my fond attachment there?
Marg. O, passing well, my lord; and when 'twas

urg'd

2

How deeply 'twould affect you, swore by Heav'n,
Imperious Warwick ne'er should be the master
Of charms like hers! 'twas happiness, he said,
Beyond his subject's merit to deserve,

Beyond his hope to wish for, or aspire to.

Warw. But for that Warwick, Edward's self had been

A subject still-and may be so hereafter.-
Thou smil'st at my misfortunes.
Marg. 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 should have thought, the reach of years so

green

As Edward's, to despatch the weeping lover,
And seize the glorious opportunity

Of tamp'ring with his mistress here at home.

Warw. Did Nevil, Rutland, Clifford, bleed for this?
Marg. For this doth Henry languish in a dungeon,
And wretched Marg’ret lead a life of woe :-
For this you gave the crown to pious Edward,-
And thus he thanks you for his kingdom.
Warw. 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 Margret, know me for thy friend-
We will have noble vengeance! are there not
Still left among the lazy sons of peace,