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 Margret 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,
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 abjure 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, Margret, 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
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.
Enter MARGARET, LADY CLIFFORD, and ATTENDANTS.
Marg. Despatch these letters straight, to Scotland: this
To the French Envoy-these to the Earl of Pem
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
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.
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
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