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;
Her wounds scarce closed, shall Edward open 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. Ó! 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 soothe 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 tonight?

Mess. My liege, ere now he might have reached the palace,

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

But ill befits the idol, that receives it.

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

see him,

Till all is fixed; once more, my best-loved Suffolk,

Try the soft arts of thy persuasive tongue : What method canst thou think on, to evade This promised marriage with ambitious France? Suf. Summon your council, lay your thoughts before them,

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

To please himself in that, which should con

cern

Himself alone-firm Buckingham and I
Will plead your cause against the haughty War-
wick,

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-
I'm busy-stay-remember what I told you,
Touching the earldom, which I mean to give
Her father; that may bring her to the court;
You understand me, Suffolk-fare thee well.

[Exit Suf.

Why should I dread to see the man I loveThe man I reverence- -Warwick is not changed,

But Edward is-Suffolk, I know, abhors him-
A favourite must be hated-if he urges
This dreadful contract, I shall hate him too:
I cannot live without Elisabeth:

I'll think no more-if I must sacrifice
My friendship or my love-the choice is made.

SCENE I.

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. [Erit.

SCENE II--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 birth-right 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

us.

Pem. Why, let her: if she comes with hostile

arm,

England, thank Heaven, is ready to receive her:
I love my country, and revere my king,
As much, perhaps, as honest Buckingham,
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.

Those 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 Clarence, Pembroke, &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-

ners

O'er the contending nations; every doubt
Is now removed, and confidence established,
I hope, to last for ages.

Edw. Peace, my lord,

Is ever welcome; 'tis the gift of Heaven,
The nurse of science, art's fair patroness,
And merit's best protector; but if France
Would chain us down to ignominious terms,
Cramp our free commerce, and infringe the rights
Of our liege subjects, England may repent
Too late her rash credulity, and peace,
With all her blessings, may be bought too dear.
Warw. The shame would then be his, who
made the purchase.

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 have 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.

Warw. That too, my liege, hath been thy Warwick'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.

Edw. 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?

Edw. You'll pardon me, my lord; I thought it part

Of a king's power to have a will, to see
With his own eyes, and in life's little feast,
To cater for himself; but 'tis, it seems,
A privilege his servants can refuse him.
Warw. And so they ought--the king, who can-

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 soothe 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 sog-
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, Whate'er you courtiers think, the best support 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 falschood?

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 dispers. Edw. [Comes to Warw.] Lord Warwick, keep In narrower bounds that proud impetuous

per;

tem

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 Eds.
Warw. 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!—————

S

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 down-cast eye
And gloomy aspect say I am: you look
As if the idol, made by your own hands,
Had fallen upon, and crushed you; is it not so?
Warw. Amazement! nought escapes thy pier-
cing eye,

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,

suits not

With Edward's nicer palate; he disdains,
How sweet soe'er, to taste a foreign banquet,
And relishes no dainties but his own:
Am I again mistaken?

Warw. Sure thou deal'st

With some all-knowing spirit, who imparts Each secret purpose to thee; else how know'st thou,

That Edward had refused to wed the princess?
Marg. Oh! it requires no supernatural aid
To trace his actions, nor has Margaret trod
The paths of life with unobserving eye.

I could have told you this long since—for know,
The choice is made, the nuptial rites prepared,
Which, but for your return, as unexpected
As undesired, had been, ere this, complete;
And, as in duty bound, you then had paid
Your due obedience to our English queen.
Wara. Determined, say'st thou? Gracious
Heaven! 'tis well

I am returned.

Marg. Indeed, my lord, you came A little out of season; 'twas unkind To interrupt your master's happiness, To blast so fair a passion in its bloom, And check the rising harvest of his love.

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 charris, 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?
Marg. 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.

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

[Aside.

Elizabeth! he could not, dare not do it!
Confusion! I shall soon discover all.
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 proofMarg. 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

be so:

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.

511

We will have noble vengeance: are there not Still left amongst 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 ab
jure thee:

Oh! I will make thee ample recompence
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 nis destruction.

Warw. That arch-pander, Suffolk, That minister of vice-but time is precious; fo-morrow, Margaret, we will meet in private, And have some further conference; mean time Devise, consult, use every means against Our common foe: remember, from this hour, Warwick's thy friend-be secret and be happy.

[Erit.

Marg. What easy fools these cunning states

men are,

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 Shall rise superior in the lists of fame: Fortune, that long had frowned, shall smile at last,

And make amends for all my sorrows past. [Ent.

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 gentleman.
Thus far, my friend, hath fortune favoured us
[Turning to Lady Clifford.
Beyond our hopes: the soul of haughty War-
wick

Is all on fire, and puling Edward loves
With most romantic ardour-O my Clifford,

You would have smiled to see how artfully
I played upon him: flattered, soothed, provoked.
And wrought him to my purpose: we are linked
In firmest bonds of amity and love.

Clif. Hath Warwick, then, so soon forgot has

Edward?

Think'st thou the frantic earl will e'er exert
His ill-directed powers to pull down
The royal structure, which himself had raised?
Never.

Marg. What is there disappointed love
And unrestrained ambition will not do?
I tell thee, we are sworn and cordial friends.