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Some busy spirits, who wish well to thee,
And to thy cause?

Marg. There are resentment sleeps,
But is not dead: Beneath the hollow cover
Of loyalty, the slumb'ring ashes lie
Unheeded; Warwick's animating breath
Will quickly light them into flames again,
Warw. Then, Edward, from this moment I abjuré
thee!

O, I will make thee ample recompense,
For all the wrongs that I have done the house
Of Lancaster!-go, summon all thy friends-
Be quick, good Margaret; haste, ere I repent,
And yield my soul to perjur'd York again.
The king, I think, gives you free liberty
To range abroad?

Marg. He does; and I will use it,
As I would ever use the gift of foes,-
To his destruction.

Warw. That arch pander, Suffolk,

That minister of vice-but time is precious-
To-morrow, Marg'ret, we will meet in private,
And have some further conference; meantime,
Devise, consult, use ev'ry means against
Our common foe: remember, from this hour,
Warwick's thy friend-be secret, and be happy.
[Exit.
Marg. What easy fools these cunning statesmen

are,

With all their policy, when once they fall
Into a woman's power! This gallant leader,
This blust'ring Warwick-how the hero
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.
Transporting thought!

The golden wreath once more s hall bind my brow, Proud York, beware! for Lancaster's great name Shall rise superior in the lists of fame :

Fortune, that long hath frown'd, shall smile at last, And make amends for all my sorrows past.

[Exit.

ACT THE THIRD.

SCENE I.

The Palace.

Enter MARGARET, LADY CLIFFORD, and
ATTENDANTS.

Marg. Despatch these letters straight, to Scotland: this

To the French Envoy-these to the Earl of Pem

broke.

[To a GENTLEMAN.

Thus far, my friend, hath fortune favour'd us

[Turning to LADY CLIFFORD. Beyond our hopes: the soul of haughty Warwick

Is all on fire, and puling Edward loves
With most romantic ardour. O my Clifford,
You would have smil'd to see how artfully
I play'd upon him-flatter'd, sooth'd, provok'd,
And wrought him to my purpose.—We are link'd
In firmest bonds of amity and love.

Lady C. Hath Warwick, then, so soon forgot his
Edward?

Think'st thou the frantic earl will e'er exert
His ill directed powers, to pull down

The royal structure which himself has rais'd?—
Never.

Marg. What is there disappointed love

And unrestrain❜d ambition, will not do?

I tell thee, we are sworn and cordial friends.
Lady C. Thou know'st, he hates the house of Lancaster.
Marg. No matter; he has marvellous good skill
In making kings, and I have business for him.
Lady C. And canst thou, then, forget the cruel wrongs,
The deep felt injuries of oppressive Warwick,
To join the hand that forg'd thy husband's chains,
And robb'd thee of a crown?

Marg. But what, my Clifford,

If the same hand that ravish'd, should restore it!
'Tis a court friendship, and may last as long
As interest shall direct: I've not forgot,
No, nor forgiven; I hate, abhor, detest him-
He shall perish.

I keep him for the last, dear, precious morsel,
To crown the glorious banquet of revenge.

Lady C. "Tis what he merits from us, yet th' attempt Were dangerous, he is still the people's idol.

Marg. And so, perhaps, shall Margret be;-applause

Waits on success. The fickle multitude,

Like the light straw that floats along the stream,

Glide with the current still, and follow fortune.

Lady C. What further succour have we to depend on, Beside Earl Warwick's!

Marg. O, his name alone,

Will be an army to us.

Lady C. If we have it.

Resentment is a short-liv'd passion: what,
If Warwick should relent, and turn again
To Edward?

Marg. Then I have a bosom friend

5

That shall be ready to reward him for it—
But I have better hopes: Without his aid,
We are not friendless. Scotland's hardy sons,
Who smile at danger, and defy the storm,
Will leave the barren mountains to defend
That liberty they love; and to the aid

Of gallant Pembroke, and the powers which France
Will send to vindicate her injur'd honour :

Ere Edward can collect his force, and take
The field, we shall be thirty thousand strong.
Lady C. But what becomes of thy young prince ?.
Marg. Ay, there

I am indeed unhappy; O my child,

How shall I set him free? Hear, Nature! hear
A mother's prayer! O guide me with thy counsel,
And teach me how to save my darling boy!-
Ay, now I have it—monitress divine,

I thank thee!-yes, I wait but for the means
Of his escape, then fly this hated palace,
Nor will return till I can call it mine.

Enter KING EDWARD and SUFFOLK.

[Exeunt.

King E. I fear we have gone too far: th' indignant
Warwick

Ill brook'd our steady purpose-mark'd you, Suffolk,
With what an eye of scorn he turn'd him from us,
And lower'd defiance? that prophetic woman!
Half of her curse already is fulfill'd,

And I have lost my friend.

Suf. Some friends, perhaps,

Are better lost. You'll pardon me, my liege,
But, were it fitting, I could tell a tale

Would soon convince you, Warwick is as weak-
King E. As Edward, thou wouldst say.
Suf. But 'twill distress

Thy noble heart too much-I dare not, sir,
Yet one day you must know it.

King E. Then by thee

Let it be told me, Suffolk-thy kind hand
Will best administer the bitter draught:

Go on, my Suffolk, speak, I charge thee, speak.
Suf. That rival, whom you wish'd me to discover-
King E. Ay, what of him?-quick! tell me, hast
thou found

The happy traitor? give me but to know,

That I may wreak my speedy vengeance on him.
Suf. Suppose that rival were the man, whom most
You lov'd the man, perhaps, whom most you fear'd:
Suppose 'twere Warwick ?

King E. Ha! it cannot be !

I would not think it for a thousand worlds→→→
Warwick in love with her!-Impossible!
Where didst thou learn this falsehood?
Suf. From the lips

Of truth-from one, whose honour, and whose word
You will not question-from Elizabeth.

King E. From her! nay, then, I fear, it must be so.
Suf. When last I saw her, (for again I went
By your command), though hopeless of success,
With all the little eloquence that I

Was master of, urg'd your ardent passion;-
Told her how much, how tenderly you lov'd her,
And press'd with eagerness to know the cause
Of her unkind refusal, till at length

Reluctantly, with blushes, she confess'd,
There was a cause: she thank'd you for

ness,

your good.

'Twas more, she said, much more than she deserv'd, She ever should revere her king, and if She had a heart to give, it should be Edward's.

King E. So kind, and yet so cruel !—well, go on. Suf. Then told me all the story of her love, That Warwick long had woo'd her-that her hand Was promis'd, soon as he return'd from France: Though once her father cruelly oppos'd it, They were, by his consent, to be united.

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