And soft persuasion dwell; long time he stood
Inflexible, and, deaf to friendship's voice,
Listened to nought but all-subduing love.
In after-times, thy name shall be enrolled
Amongst the great deliverers of their country.
Eliz. I have no title to the lavish praise
Thy generous heart bestows; I only said
What duty prompted, and what love inspired;
Indulgent Heaven has crowned it with success.
Eda. Thou hast done all: I am indebted to
thee
For more, much more, than I can e'er repay. Long time, with shame I own, hath Warwick
Above me, but I will not be outdone
For ever by this proud aspiring rival :
Poor as I am, there yet is one way left
To pay the debt of gratitude I owe him,
One great reward for such exalted virtues ;
Thyself, Elizabeth.
Eliz. What means my lord,
Edw. Yes; when next we meet, I will bestow it on him, will resign All my fond claim to happiness and thee; Though thy dear image ne'er can be effaced From Edward's breast, though still I doat upon thee,
Though I could hang for ever on thy beauties, Yet will I yield them to their rightful lord; Warwick has earned, Warwick alone deserves them.
Eliz. Would he were here to thank thee for this goodness!
Know, generous prince, Elizabeth has long
Admired thy virtues, and, could love admit
Of a divided heart, the noble Edward
Would share it with his friend.
Mess. Is taken prisoner, and will soon Be here-
Edw. But where's lord Warwick?
Mess. Sir-the queen.
Enter MARGARET, Prisoner.
Marg. Once more I am your prisoner.
Edw. 'Twill be prudent
Henceforth to keep you so.
Marg. You dare not!
Thou think'st, perhaps, that I shall sue to thee
For mercy: no; in Margaret of Anjou,
Thou seest the wife, and daughter of a king.
A spirit not to be subdued; though fallen,
Triumphant still; and, though a prisoner, free.
For know, I bear a mind above the reach
Of fortune or of Edward-I have lost
And gained, what most I wished to gain, revenge!
All I could wish to live for, in my child;
Or life or death are now indifferent to me. Edw. For thy unbounded goodness, power supreme,
Eliz. [Kneeling.] Accept our humble prayer! Marg. Insulting piety! the common trick Of hypocrites and slaves: when ye shall know What Margaret knows, ye may not be so thank ful.
Methinks 'tis pity Warwick is not here
To join in your devotion.
Eliz. Would to Heaven
Edw. What fate? even now, Crown'd with immortal wreaths, the hero comes To bless his friends, and punish guilt like thine. Marg. Proud and deluded wretches! I look down
With pity on you: captive as I am,
'Tis mine to judge and punish; be it yours To hear and tremble.
Eliz. What can this mean?
Marg. If I mistake not, Warwick is your friend,
Your lover too, I think.
Eliz. My lord, my husband.
Marg. Know then, that friend, that lover, perjured Warwick,
Hath not an hour to live.
Edw. What murtherous hand
Marg. Mine, tyrant, mine: think not I mean to hide
The noble deed: it is my happiness,
It is my glory: thou wilt call me base,
Blood-thirsty, cruel, savage, and revengeful.
But here I stand acquitted to myself,
And every feeling heart that knows my wrongs.
To late posterity, dethroned queens,
And weeping mothers, shall applaud my justice.
Edw. Justice! on whom?
Marg. Can Edward ask me? Who Imprisoned Henry, robbed me of a crown, And placed it on a proud usurper's head?' Who gave his sacred promise to a queen, And broke it? Who-for which indignant Hea
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Let them be sharp and cruel as thyself, All that ingenious malice can suggest, Or power inflict, 'twill be my comfort still, They cannot be so great as those you feel. Edw. Guards, take the monster hence! let her be chained
In some deep dungeon, dark as her own thoughts, There let her perish-hence, away with her! Marg. Despair and horror visit thee-farewell
He comes, my triumph is complete; look there! [Exit.
Enter WARWICK, leaning on two Soldiers. Warw. Where is he? Lead me, lead me to my king.
Edw. My Warwick! my preserver! she shall bleed
For this in every vein.
Warw. Think not of her,
She has no power to hurt thee! and with guilt
Like her's, 'tis punishment enough to live:
This is no time for vengeance; death comes on
With hasty strides-'tis but a little while-
A few short moments, and we part for ever.
My friend-
Edw. I am not worthy of the name,
For I disgraced, dishonoured, murdered thee;
Edward's unkindness was the cause of all:
Canst thou forgive me?
Warw. O! may Warwick's crimes
Ne'er meet forgiveness from offended Heaven,
If from my soul I do not pardon, love,
And honour thee!
Edw. Away, let me support him!
'Tis the last office I shall e'er perform
For thee, my Warwick-Wilt thou lean upon me,
And seal my pardon with one kind embrace?
Warw. We never hated.
Edw. But my love was blind.
Warw. And blinder my resentment.
Edw. I forgot
Warw. And I remembered not
Thou wert my king-My sweet Elizabeth, Where is she! Edward, do not keep her from me; We are no rivals now.
Edw. Shocked at the news
Of thy untimely fate, she sunk beneath it,
And fainted in these arms: I seized the occa-
Warw. Elizabeth,
Be comforted.
Eliz. O no, it is my doom
Never to taste of joy or comfort more:
No; from this hateful world will I retire,
And mourn my Warwick's fate, imploring Hea-
That I may soon wear out my little store
Of hopeless days, and join thee in the tomb.
Warw. That must not be: I've done my friend
And only thou canst make atonement for it.
Thy hand, Elizabeth; if e'er thou loved'st,
Observe me now-thine, Edward. For my sake
Cherish this beauteous mourner, take her from
me,
As the last present of a dying friend.
Edw. If aught could make the precious gift
more dear,
It would be, Warwick, that it came from thee.
O! I will guard her with a parent's care
From every ill, watch over and protect her;
And, when the memory of thee shall awake,
As oft it will, her poignant griefs, repel
The rising sigh, wipe off the flowing tear,
And strive to charm her to forgetfulness.
That closes every wound, shall pour its balm
O'er thine. Meanwhile, remember Warwick's
fate.
I gave my word to Margaret, and broke it;
Heaven is not to be mocked, it soon o'ertakes us,
And in our crime we meet our punishment.
O, Edward! if thou hop'st that length of days,
And fair prosperity, shall crown thy wishes,
Beware of passion and resentment; make
Thy people's good and happiness thy own;
Discourage faction, banish flatterers, keep
Thy faith inviolate, and reign in peace.
I can no more-My love! Have mercy, Heaven!
[Dies
Edw. He's gone!-
Eliz. And with him all my hopes of bliss.
Edw. Let every honour, to a soldier due,
Attend the hero to his tomb-meanwhile,
Deep in the living tablet of my heart,
Will I engrave thy words-illustrious shade!
Living, thou wert my counsellor and friend,
And, dead, I will remember and obey thee.
Eliz. Warwick, farewell! I shall not long
survive thee.
Edw. I hope thou wilt-Elizabeth, remember His dying charge, think on thy promise given.
Warw. Wilt thou indeed? Then I shall die in Thou shalt remain with me, with me lament
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Our common benefactor; we will sit
And talk together of my Warwick's virtues,
For I will try to emulate them all,
And learn, by copying him, to merit thee.
His great example shall inspire my breast
With patriot zeal, shall teach me to subdue
The power of faction, vanquish party rage,
And make me, what alone I wish to be,
The happy king of an united people.
BY GARRICK.-SPOKEN BY MRS YATES.
Exhausted quite with prisons, racks, and death,
Permit me here to take a little breath!
You who have seen my actions, known their
springs,
Say, are we women such insipid things?
Say, lords of the creation, mighty men!
In what have you surpassed us? where? and
when?
I come to know for whom the palm is due,
To us weak vessels, or to stronger you?
Against your conquering swords, I draw-my
fan,
Come on!-now parry Margret, if you can.
Stand up, ye boasters! [To the Pit] don't there
sneaking sit;
Are you for pleasure, politics, or wit?
The Boxes smile to see me scold the Pit.
Their turn is next-And, though I will not
wrong 'em,
A woful havoc there will be among 'em-
You, our best friends,[To the Pit] love, cherish,
and respect us;
Not take our fortunes, marry and neglect us.
You think indeed that as you please, you rule us;
And with a strange importance often school us,
Yet let each citizen describe a brother,
I'll tell you what you say of one another:
"My neighbour leads, poor soul, a woful life,
A worthy man, but govern'd by his wife!"
How say you? what, all silent?-then 'tis
We rule the city-Now, great sirs, to you.
To the Bores.
What is your boast ?-Would you, like me, have And let me hint the only way to keep it.
To free a captive wife, or save a son?
Rather than run such danger of your lives,
You'd leave your children, and lock up your wives.
When with your noblest deeds a nation rings,
You are but puppets, and we play the strings.
We plan no battles-true-but those of sight,
Crack goes the fan, and armies halt or fight!
You have th' advantage, ladies, wisely reap it,
Let men of vain ideas have their fill,
Frown, bounce, stride, strut,-while you, with happy skill,
Like anglers, use the finest golden thread;
Give line enough-nor check the tugging head:
The fish will flounder-you with gentle hand,
And soft degrees, must bring the trout to land:
A more specific nostrum cannot be-
Probatum est-and never fails with Me.
SCENE I.-MATILDA'S Tent, with a View of the The flowery path, that tempts our wandering
But leads to misery; what thou fondly deem'st
My soul's best comfort, is its bitterest woe.
Mat. I thank thee, gentle Bertha, for thy good-Ear Morcar loves me. To the generous mind
The heaviest debt is that of gratitude,
When 'tis not in our power to repay it.
Ber. Oft have I heard thee say, to him thon
ow'st
Thy honour and thy life.
Mat. I told thee truth.
Beneath my father's hospitable roof
I spent my earlier, happier days, in peace
And safety: When the Norman conqueror came,
Discord, thou know'st, soon lit her fatal torch,
And spread destruction o'er this wretched land.
The loyal Ranulph flew to William's aid,
And left me to a faithful peasant's care,
Who lived, sequestered, in the fertile plains
Of rich Northumbria: There, awhile, I dwelt
In sweet retirement, when the savage Malcolm
Rushed on our borders.
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