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With all the warmth of friendship; dwelt with Her wounds scarce closed, shall Edward open

pleasure

On every princely virtue, that adorns

Your noble heart; she listened with attention, And echoed back your praises.

Edw. Was not that

A kind propitious omen?
Suf. Such indeed

Hoping to find it, I called in the powers
Of flattery to my aid, and gazed upon her,
As if confounded by her dazzling beauties-
Conscious she smiled; but when, at length, I
spake

Of England's monarch sighing at her feet,
The crimson glow of modesty o'erspread
Her cheek, and gave new lustre to her charms:
She turned aside, and, as she silent bowed
Her doubtful thanks, I marked 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 fixed: I fear, my liege,
With all that England, all that thou could'st give,
The crown would sit but heavy on her brow.

Edw. Not heavier, Suffolk, than it sits on mine : My throne is irksome to me; who would wish To be a sovereign, when Elizabeth

Prefers a subject? Then the 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 promised Lewis to espouse his daughter,
To strengthen our alliance: would to Heaven
I had not! If I seek this coy refuser,

And break with France, Warwick will take the alarm;

If once offended, he's inexorable.

Suf. I know him well-Believe me, sir, the

high

And haughty spirit, when it meets rebuke,
Is easiest checked, 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.

Edw. No; Ambition fires

His noble breast, love triumphs over mine:
But well thou know'st, our eyes are ever open
To others' faults, and shut against our own.
We seldom pity woes we ne'er experienced,
Or pardon weakness which we do not feel:
He is a hero.

Suf. Heroes are but men ;

I have some cause to think so-but of that We'll talk another time: meanwhile, my liege, I think lord Warwick is a useful friend.

Edw. Aye, and a dangerous foe; the people
love,

To adoration love him; if he falls
From his allegiance, crowds will follow him.
England has long been rent by civil broils,
And fain would rest her in the arms of peace;

them,

And bid them bleed afresh? believe me, Suffolk, I would not be the cause of new divisions Amongst my people, for a thousand kingdoms. Suf. 'Tis nobly said, and may thy grateful subjects

Revere thy virtues, and reward thy love! Edw. O! Suffolk, did they know but half the

cares,

That wait on royalty, they would not grudge
Their wretched master a few private hours
Of social happiness. If France consents,
I am undone; and Warwick hath, ere this,
Enslaved 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 chained to misery, coldly tell me,
To sooth my grief, 'twas for the public good!
Suf. How far you have commissioned him, I

know not;

But were I worthy to advise, my liege,
I would not be the dupe of his ambition,
But follow nature's dictates, and be happy.
England has charms beside Elizabeth's,
And beauties that

Edw. No more; my heart is fixed
On her alone; find out this powerful rival,
I charge thee, Suffolk: yet why wish to find,
What, found, will make me wretched? were he

bound

In cords of tenderest friendship round my heart,
Dearer than Warwick, dearer than thyself,
Forgive me, but I fear I should abhor him.
O think on something that may yet be done,
To win her to my heart ere Warwick comes!
Suf. I hear he is expected every hour.
Edw. Grant, Heaven, some friendly storm may
yet retard him!

I dread his presence here.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. My liege, the earl

Of Warwick is arrived.

Edw. Ha! when? how? where? Would he were buried in the rapid waves That brought him hither! comes he here to-night? Mess. My liege, ere now he might have reach

ed the palace,

But that the shouting multitudes press hard On every side, and seem to worship him. [Evil. Suf. Such adoration

But ill befits the idol, that receives it.

Edw. What's to be done? I camot, must not

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Meet Warwick there, and urge a sovereign's right,

To please himself in that, which should concern Himself alone-firm Buckingham and I

- Will plead your cause against the haughty Warwick,

Whom I would treat with cold civility,
And distant state, which ever angers more
Resentful spirits than the warmth of passion.
Edw. 'Tis well advised!-mean time, if pos-
sible,

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-

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ACT II.

SCENE I.

Enter WARWICK, speaking to an Officer. Warw. 'Tis well: I shall attend his highness' pleasure. [Comes forward. Meet me i' th' council! Warwick might have claimed

A private audience-After all my toils, My perils in his service, 'tis a cold, Unkind reception: some base whisperer, Some needy sycophant, perhaps, hath poisoned My royal master's ear-or, do I judge Too rashly? As my embassy concerns The public welfare, he would honour me With public thanks-Elizabeth will chide me For this unkind delay-but honour calls, And duty to my king: that task performed, I haste, my love, to happiness and thee. [Exit.

SCENE IL-The Council-Chamber.

Enter King EDWARD, Dukes of CLARENCE and BUCKINGHAM, Earls of SUFFOLK, PEMBROKE, &c.

Edw. Good Buckingham, I thank thee for thy counsel,

Nor blame thy honest warmth; I love this freedom;

It is the birthright of an Englishman,
And doth become thee: what says noble Suffolk?
Suf. I would not cross my royal master's will;
But, on my soul, I think this nuptial league
With France preposterous and impolitic!
It cannot last; we are by nature foes,
And nought but mutual poverty and weakness
Can ever make us friends—she wants our aid
Against the powerful Burgundy, and therefore
Throws out this lure of beauty to ensnare you.
That purpose gained, she turns her arms against

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Or my good fearful lord of Suffolk here,
Who knows so well, or would be thought to
know,

What France will do hereafter: yet I think,
The faith of nations is a thing so sacred,
It ought not to be trifled with--I hate,
As much as you, the unnatural forced alliance;
And yet, my lords, if Warwick is empowered,
For so I hear he is, to treat with Lewis,

I know not how in honour you can swerve
From his conditions.

Hark! the hero comes;

[Shouting.

These shouts proclaim him near: the joyful

people

Will usher in their great deliverer,

As he deserves.

Enter WARWICK.

Edw. Thrice welcome, noble Warwick! Welcome to all!

[To CLAR. PEM. &c.
Suf. You've had, my lord, I fear,
An arduous task, which few could execute.
But Warwick, in the council and the field,
Alike distinguished, and alike successful.

Edw. What says our cousin France?
Warw. By me, my liege,

He greets you well, and hopes, in closer ties
United, soon to wear a dearer name.

At length, thank Heaven! the iron gates of war
Are closed, and Peace displays her silken ban-

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If any doubt my faith, my honest zeal
For thee, and for my country, let him speak,
And I will answer: punish me, just Heaven,
If in the task I haye consulted aught

But England's honour, and my sovereign's glory! Edw. Mistake me not, good Warwick; well I know

Thy spotless truth, thy honour, and thy love;
But glory has no farther charms for me:
Raised, by thy powerful aid, to England's throne,
I ask no more: already I am great

As fame and fortune with their smiles can make me,

And all I wish for now is-to be happy.

Edw. Kings, my lord, are born With passions, feelings, hearts-like other men; Nor see I yet, why Edward's happiness Must fall a sacrifice to Warwick's honour. Warw. My honour, sir, is yours; my cause

your own:

Who sent me, and whose image did I bear?
The image of a great and glorious king,
Or of a weak and wavering boy?-henceforth,
Choose from the herd of fawning sycophants,
Some needy slave for your mock embassies,
To do your work, and stain the name of England
With foul reproach-Edward, I blush for thee,
And for my country; from this hour, expect

Warw. That too, my liege, hath been thy War- From injured France contempt, with deep re

wick's care:

Happy thou shalt be, if the fairest form,
That ever caught a gazing lover's eye,
Joined to the sweetest, most engaging virtues,
Can make thee so:-she is indeed a gem,
Fit to adorn the brightest crown: to see,
Is to admire her; trust me, England's self,
The seat of beauty, and the throne of love,
Boasts not a fairer.

Edu. Beauty, good my lord,

Is all ideal; 'tis the wayward child
Of fancy, shifting with the changeful wind
Of fond opinion; what to you appears
The model of perfection, may disgust
My strange capricious taste.

Warw. Such charms would fix
Inconstancy itself:-her winning virtues,
Even if her beauty failed, would soon subdue
The rebel heart, and you would learn to love her.
Edw. Is passion to be learned then? wouldst
thou make

A science of affection, guide the heart, And teach it where to fix? impossible! 'Tis strange philosophy.

[Rises and comes forward.

My lord of Warwick,
Your zeal in England's, and in Edward's cause
Merits our thanks; but for the intended marriage
With France's daughter-it may never be.
Warw. Not be! it must: your sacred word is
passed,

And cannot be recalled; but three days since
I signed the contract, and my honour's pledged
For the performance: Heavens! whilst fickle
France

Is branded 'midst the nations of the earth
For breach of public faith, shall we, my liege,
Practise ourselves the vices we condemn,
Pass o'er a rival nation's every virtue,
And imitate their perfidy alone?

sentment

For broken faith, and enmity eternal.

Edw. Eternal be it then! for, as I prize My inward peace beyond the pomp of state, And all the tinsel glare of fond ambition,

I will not wed her.- Gracious Heaven! what am I?

The meanest peasant in my realm may choose
His rustic bride, and share with her the sweets
Of mutual friendship and domestic bliss!
Why should my happier subjects, then, deny me
The common rights, the privilege of nature,
And, in a land of freedom, thus conspire
To make their king the only slave amongst them?
Warw. The worst of slaves is he, whom pas
sion rules,

Unchecked by reason, and the powerful voice
Of friendship, which, I fear, is heard no more
By thoughtless Edward.—'Tis the curse of kings
To be surrounded by a venal herd

Of flatterers, that sooth his darling vices,
And rob their master of his subjects' love.
Nay, frown not, sirs! supported as ye are,
I fear ye not. Which of this noble train,
These well-beloved counsellors and friends,
Assembled here to witness my disgrace,
Have urged you to this base, unmanly falsehood.
Shame on you all! to stain the spotless mind
Of uncorrupted youth, undo the work
Of Warwick's friendly hand, and give him back
A sovereign so unlike the noble Edward!

Suff. My lord, we thank you for the kind sug

gestion,

Howe'er ill-founded; and when next we meet, To give our voice in aught, that may concern The public weal, no doubt shall ask your leave, Ere we proceed

Pemb. My lord of Suffolk, speak But for yourself; Warwick hath too much cause To be offended: in my poor opinion,

Edw. You'll pardon me, my lord; I thought it Whate'er you courtiers think, the best support

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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

Edw. Good my lords,

Let us have no dissentions here; we meet
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 break up and disperse. Edw. [Comes to WARW.] Lord Warwick, keep In narrower bounds that proud impetuous tem

per;

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 determined. [Erit EDW.
Ware. So:

'Tis well, 'tis very well: I have deserved it;
I've borne this callow eagle on my wing,
And now he spurns me from him; 'tis a change
I little looked 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
Of me, she comes in luckless hour, for I
Am powerless now.

Enter MARGARET of ANJOU.
Warw. Will Margaret of Anjou
Thus deign to visit her acknowledged foe?
Marg. Alas! my lord, inured to wretchedness
As I am, and familiar with misfortune,
I harbour no resentment; have long since
Forgot, that ever Warwick 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 it the idol, made by your own hands,
Had fallen upon, and crushed you; is it not so?
Warw. Amazement ! nought escapes thy pier-
cing eve,

And penetrating judgment: 'tis too true,
I am a poor, disgraced, dishonoured slave,
Not worth thy seeking; leave me, for the tide
Of court preferment flows another way.

Marg. The feast, perhaps, you have provided,

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Marg. Alas! my lord,

Had you been chastened in affliction's school,
As I have been, and taught by sad experience
To know mankind, you had not fallen a prey
To such delusion.

Warw. Was it like a friend,
Was it like Edward, to conceal his love!
Some base, insinuating, artful woman,
With borrowed 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 accomplished of her sex.
Warw. Know you the lady?

Murg. But as fame reports;

Of peerless beauty and transcendent charms,
But for her virtue-I must ask of-you.
Warw. Of me! What virtues? Whose?
Marg. Elizabeth's.

Wart. Amazement! no: it must not, cannot be:

Elizabeth! he could not, dare not do it! Confusion! I shall soon discover all. [Aside. But what have I to do with Edward's choice, Whoe'er she be, if he refuses mine?

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 raised, Who condescends so kindly to instruct me, Should whisper-Warwick knows the power 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. Margaret, 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 dispatched
to Grafton,

To offer her a share in Edward's throne.

Warw. Which she refused: did she not, Margaret? 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 every virtue! I will 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 urged

How deeply it would affect you, swore by Heaven,
Imperious Warwick ne'er should be the master
Of charms like hers; 'twas happiness, he said,
Beyond a 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 dispatch the weeping lover,
And seize the glorious opportunity
Of tampering with his mistress here at home.
Waru. Did Nevil, Rutland, Clifford, bleed for
this!

Marg. For this, doth Henry languish in a dungeon,

And wretched Margaret live a life of woe?
For this you gave the crown to pious Edward,
And thus he thanks you for his kingdom.
War, Crowns

Are baubles, fit for children like himself

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To play with; I have scattered 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 reverence, be my portion!
Henceforth, good Margaret, know me for thy
friend:

We will have noble vengeance: are there not
Still left among the lazy sons of peace
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 slumbering ashes lie Unheeded; Warwick's animating breath Will quickly light them into flames again.

Warw. Then, Edward, from this moment I
abjure thee;

Oh! 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 perjured York again.
The king, I think, gives you free liberty
To range abroad?

Marg. He doth, 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, Margaret, we will meet in private, And have some further conference; mean time Device, consult, use every means against Our common foe: remember, from this hour, Warwick's thy friend-be secret and be happy.

(Ere Marg. What easy fools these cunning

men are,

states

With all their policy, when once they fall Into a woman's power! This gallant leader, This blustering Warwick, how the hero shrunk And lessened 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. Proud York, beware; for Lancaster's great name >hall rise superior in the lists of fame: Fortune, that long had frowned, shall smile at last,

And make amends for all my sorrows past. (Eri,

SCENE I.

ACT III.

Enter MARGARET, CLIFFORD, and Attendants. Marg. Dispatch these letters straight to Scotland-this,

To the French envoy-these, to the earl of Pem broke. [To a gentlem Thus far, my friend, hath fortune favoured us [Turning to Lady CLIFFORD Beyond our hopes: the soul of haughty Warwick

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