Some busy spirits, who wish well to thee, Marg. There are resentment sleeps, O, I will make thee ample recompense, Marg. He does; and I will use it, Warw. That arch pander, Suffolk, That minister of vice-but time is precious- are, With all their policy, when once they fall I thank thee for thy wonder-working charms! 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 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 Lady C. Hath Warwick, then, so soon forgot his Think'st thou the frantic earl will e'er exert The royal structure which himself has rais'd?— Marg. What is there disappointed love And unrestrain❜d ambition, will not do? I tell thee, we are sworn and cordial friends. Marg. But what, my Clifford, If the same hand that ravish'd, should restore it! I keep him for the last, dear, precious morsel, 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, Marg. Then I have a bosom friend 5 That shall be ready to reward him for it— Of gallant Pembroke, and the powers which France Ere Edward can collect his force, and take I am indeed unhappy; O my child, How shall I set him free? Hear, Nature! hear I thank thee!-yes, I wait but for the means Enter KING EDWARD and SUFFOLK. [Exeunt. King E. I fear we have gone too far: th' indignant Ill brook'd our steady purpose-mark'd you, Suffolk, And I have lost my friend. Suf. Some friends, perhaps, Are better lost. You'll pardon me, my liege, Would soon convince you, Warwick is as weak- Thy noble heart too much-I dare not, sir, King E. Then by thee Let it be told me, Suffolk-thy kind hand Go on, my Suffolk, speak, I charge thee, speak. The happy traitor? give me but to know, That I may wreak my speedy vengeance on him. King E. Ha! it cannot be ! I would not think it for a thousand worlds→→→ Of truth-from one, whose honour, and whose word King E. From her! nay, then, I fear, it must be so. Was master of, urg'd your ardent passion;- Reluctantly, with blushes, she confess'd, 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. |