Give us our Warwick, give us back, they cry'd,
Our hero, our deliv'rer!-I stepp'd forth,
And bade them, instant, if they wish'd to save
The best of men from infamy and death,
To follow me: transported, they obey'd:
I led them hither; forc'd the prison gates,
And brought thee this-direct it as thou wilt.
[Gives the Sword.
Warw. Welcome, once more, thou dearest gift of
Heav'n!

Immortal liberty! my friend, I thank thee.

O, Pembroke ! 'would thou hadst been here! my love, My dear Elizabeth, is true.

Pemb. You think so.

Warw. She has told me such sweet truths;
Edward repents him sorely; he is griev'd
At his ingratitude.

Pemb. And well he may;

I fear thou art betray'd: alas, my Warwick!
Thy open, gen'rous, unsuspecting virtue,
Thinks ev'ry heart as honest as thy own.
Thou know'st not Edward-nor Elizabeth.
The kingdom is in arms, and ev'ry hour
It is expected France will join the queen;
England will want her great protector's aid;
Edward and Rivers have conspir'd to cheat
Thy credulous ear; and who so fit to spread
The flimsy web as thy Elizabeth,

Their fair ambassadress? I see thou'rt caught.
Warw. By Heav'n, it may be so! I am the sport
Of fortune and of fraud.

Pemb. Away, my friend;

It is not now a time to think of her:
Margret, supported by thy pow'rful name,
And join'd by Clarence, waits us at the head
Of fifteen thousand men, who, eager all
To crush a tyrant, and pull down oppression,
Attend thy wish'd for presence; not a soldier

Will act or move till Warwick shall direct them.
Edward and England's fate depend on thee.
Warw. Away, my friend; I'll follow thee.

Yet stop

[Exit PEMBROKE.

A moment let not passion hurry me

To base dishonour-If my country calls

For Warwick's aid, shall I not hear her voice,
And save her? Pembroke may have private views,
And subtle Margʼret too-Elizabeth!

I must not lose thee-Oh! direct me, Heav'n! [Exit.

ACT THE FIFTH.

SCENE I.

The Palace.

Enter LADY ELIZABETH GREY.

Lady E. G. The royal pardon came too late, and
Pembroke

Already has releas'd him; he is gone-
Elizabeth may never see him more.

A thousand terrors haunt me; a fond father,
A guiltless sov'reign, a distracted lover,

Fame, fortune, friends, and country, all depend
On one eventful moment-Hark! the sound

Of distant groans; perhaps the king-perhaps
My Warwick bleeds. O! agonizing thought!
Great God of armies, whose all-guiding hand
Directs the fate of nations, Oh! look down
On thy own image, let not cruel discord
Divide their kindred souls! In pity hear,
Pour thy benignant spirit o'er their hearts,
And once more knit them in the bonds of peace!

Enter SUFFOLK.

Suf. The pray'r of innocence is always heard. Lady E. G. Ha! Suffolk! whither hastes thou? art thou come-

Suf. I come to heal thy sorrows, lovely fair one; To tell thee, Edward, and thy much lov'd Warwick, Once more are friends.

Lady E. G. Indeed! O, welcome news!

My joy's too great for utt'rance: tell me, Suffolk, How was it? speak, is Warwick safe? O, Heav'n!

Suf. A moment's patience, and I'll tell thee all. Margret, thou know'st, had rais'd a pow'rful force, That doubled Edward's troops; elate with pride, And almost sure of victory, she urg'd

The tardy spearmen; on they rush'd, as if
Secure of conquest: the unhappy king
Stood nobly firm, and seem'd to brave his fate;
When Warwick, like a guardian god, appear'd:
His noble mien, and all commanding look,
Struck deep attention; every eye was bent
Upon him, and an awful silence reign'd
O'er either host: he rais'd his voice on high,
And, Stop, he cry'd, your sacrilegious hands,
Nor touch my friend: who pierces Edward's breast,
Must pass through mine; I rais'd him to the throne,
And will support him there; to you I gave,
From you, my fellow soldiers, I expect him:
Howe'er the cruel wrongs have wounded me,

He never injur'd you, and I-forgive him.

He spake, and instant through the gazing crowd
A murmur ran; down dropp'd their nerveless arms,
As if enchanted by some magic power,

And, with one voice, they cry'd, Long live King Edward!

Lady E. G. How pow'rful is the tongue of eloquence,

When in the cause of virtue!-Well, what follow'd?
Suf. Encourag'd by the shouting soldiers, Edward
On like a modest virgin wishing came,

Yet fearful. Warwick, with a bridegroom's speed,
To meet him flew; into each other's arms
They ran with speechless joy: the tender scene
Affected ev'ry heart, and the rough soldier,
Unus'd to melting sympathy, forgot

His ruthless nature, and dissolv'd in tears.

Lady E. G. Sweet reconcilement! then, Elizabeth, Thou didst not plead in vain. But, say, how brook'd The haughty queen this unexpected change?

Suf. Abash'd, confounded, for a while she strove To stem the torrent, but in vain; then fled

Precipitate.

Lady E. G. But where, Oh, where's
Suf. With a few chosen squadrons he

The disappointed Marg❜ret.

Lady E. G. Oh, my fears!

my

Warwick?

pursues

I know not why, but at that hateful name

I tremble ever, my foreboding heart

Presages something dreadful.

Suf. Do not vex

Thy tender mind with visionary dangers.

Lady E. G. Oh! would to Heaven that he were

shelter'd here,

And safe within these arms!

Suf. Be not alarm'd;

He is the care of Heaven; all good men love,
All bad ones fear him.

Lady E. G. Such superior merit

Must have a thousand foes, the constant mark
Of envy's poison'd darts.

Suf. There Suffolk feels

The keen reproach; with blushes I confess
There was a time, when, urg'd by fond ambition,
I look'd on Warwick with a jealous eye:
But this last noble deed hath won my heart,
And I am now a convert to his virtues ;

But see, the king approaches.

Enter KING Edward.

King E. Health, and peace,

And happiness, to fair Elizabeth!

[Exit SUFFOLK.

Thou art no stranger to the joyful news;
The lustre of those speaking eyes declares it.
Lady E. G. Suffolk, e'en now, hath bless'd me with
the tidings.

King E. O! 'tis amazement all: Elizabeth, When last we met, thou wert the suppliant; now, 'Tis I must ask forgiveness-I, who injur'd

The dearest, best of men; O! thou hast sav'd

Edward from shame, and England from destruction. Lady E. G. Did I not say, my Warwick would be just?

King E. Thou didst; and on those beauteous lips, fair truth,

And soft persuasion dwell: long time he stood
Inflexible, and, deaf to friendship's voice,
Listen'd to naught but all-subduing love.
In after times, thy name shall be enroll'd
Amongst the great deliv'rers of their country.
Lady E. G. I have no title to the lavish praise
Thy gen'rous heart bestows; I only said
What duty prompted, and what love inspir'd;
Indulgent Heav'n has crown'd it with success.

King E. Thou hast done all: I am indebted to thee