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Thrust but these men away, and I'll forgive you,
Whatever torment you do put me to.

Hub. Go stand within; let me alone with him.

First Attend. I am best pleased to be from such a deed.

(Exeunt Attendants.) friend:

Arth. Alas! I then have chid away my He hath a stern look, but a gentle heart :— Let him come back, that his compassion may

Give life to yours.

Hub. Come, boy, prepare yourself.
Arth. Is there no remedy?

Hub. None, but to lose your eyes.

Arth. Oh heaven! that there were but a mote in


A grain, a dust, a gnat, a wandering hair,

Any annoyance in that precious sense!

Then, feeling what small things are boisterous there,
Your vile intent must needs seem horrible.

Hub. Is this your promise? Go to, hold your tongue.
Arth. Hubert, the utterance of a brace of tongues
Must needs want pleading for a pair of eyes:
Let me not hold my tongue; let me not, Hubert!
Or, Hubert, if you will, cut out my tongue,

So I may keep mine eyes; Oh, spare mine eyes,
Though to no use, but still to look on you!
Lo, by my troth, the instrument is cold,

And would not harm me.

Hub. I can heat it, boy.

Arth. No, in good sooth, the fire is dead with griefBeing create for comfort-to be used

In undeserved extremes: See else yourself:

There is no malice in this burning coal;

The breath of heaven hath blown its spirit out,

And strewed repentant ashes on his head.
Hub. But with my breath I can revive it, boy.
Arth. And if you do, you will but make it blush
And glow with shame of your proceedings, Hubert;
Nay it perchance, will sparkle in your eyes,
And, like a dog, that is compelled to fight,
Snatch at his master that does tarre him on.
All things, that you should use to do me wrong,
Deny their office; only you do lack

That mercy, which fierce fire, and iron extends,

Creatures of note, for mercy-lacking uses.

Hub. Well, see to live; I will not touch thine eyes For all the treasure that thine uncle owns;

Yet I am sworn, and I did purpose, boy,
With this same very iron to burn them out.

Arth. Oh, now you look like Hubert! all this while
You were disguised.

Hub. Peace: no more: Adieu!—

Your uncle must not know but you are dead:
I'll fill these dogged spies with false reports.
And pretty child, sleep doubtless, and secure
That Hubert, for the wealth of all the world,
Will not offend thee.

Arth. Oh heaven!-I thank you, Hubert.

Silence: no more. Go closely in with me:

Much danger do I undergo for thee.



King Edward. Good Suffolk, for awhile I would be private; therefore, wait without; Let me have no intruders; above all,

Keep Warwick from my sight. (Exit Suffolk. Enter Warwick.) Warwick. Behold him here;

No welcome guest, it seems, unless I ask

My lord of Suffolk's leave: there was a time
When Warwick wanted not his aid to gain
Admission here.

K. Edw. There was a time, perhaps,

When Warwick more desired and more deserved it..
War. Never I've been a foolish faithful slave:

All my best years, the morning of my life,
Have been devoted to your service: what
Are now the fruits? disgrace and infamy:
My spotless name, which never yet the breath
Of calumny had tainted, made the mock
For foreign fools to carp at: but 'tis fit
Who trust in princes, should be thus rewarded.

K. Edw. I thought, my lord, I had full well repaid
Your services with honors, wealth, and power
Unlimited thy all-directing hand

Guided in secret every latent wheel

Of government, and moved the whole machine:
Warwick was all in all, and powerless Edward
Stood like a cipher in the great account.

War. Who gave that cipher worth, and seated thee
On England's throne? Thy undistinguished name
Had rotted in the dust from whence it sprung,
And moldered in oblivion, had not Warwick
Dug from its sordid mine the useless ore,
And stamped it with a diadem. Thou knowest,
This wretched country, doomed, perhaps, like Rome,
To fall by its own self-destroying hand,
Tossed for so many years in the rough sea
Of civil discord, but for me had perished.
In that distressful hour I seized the helm,
Bade the rough wave subside in peace; and steered
Your shattered vessel safe into the harbor.
You may despise, perhaps, that useless aid
Which you no longer want; but know, proud youth,
He who forgets a friend, deserves a foe.

K. Edw. Know too, reproach for benefits received
Pays every debt, and cancels obligation.

War. Why, that indeed is frugal honesty,
A thrifty saving knowledge; when the debt
Grows burdensome, and cannot be discharged,
A sponge will wipe out all and cost you nothing.

K. Edw. When you have counted o'er the numerous train Of mighty gifts your bounty lavished on me,

You may remember next the injuries

Which I have done you; let me know them all,

And I will make you ample satisfaction.

War. Thou canst not; thou hast robbed me of a jewel

It is not in thy power to restore :

I was the first, shall future annals say,

That broke the sacred bonds of public trust
And mutual confidence: embassadors,
In after times, mere instruments, perhaps,
Of venal statesmen, shall recall my name
To witness that they want not an example,
And plead my guilt to sanctify their own.
Amidst the herd of mercenary slaves

That haunt your court, could none be found but Warwick,
To be the shameless herald of a lie?

K. Edw. And wouldst thou turn the vile reproach on me?

If I have broke my faith, and stained the name

Of England, thank thy own pernicious counsels,
That urged me to it, and extorted from me
A cold consent to what my heart abhorred.

War. I've been abused, insulted, and betrayed;

My injured honor cries aloud for vengeance,—
Her wounds will never close!

K. Edw. These gusts of passion

Will but inflame them; if I have been right
Informed, my lord, besides the dangerous fears
Of bleeding honor, you have other wounds
As deep, though not so fatal: such, perhaps,
As none but fair Elizabeth can cure.
War. Elizabeth!

K. Edw. Nay, start not, I have cause
To wonder most; I little thought, indeed,
When Warwick told me I might learn to love,
He was himself so able to instruct me.
But I've discovered all.

War. And so have I :

Too well I know thy breach of friendship there,
Thy fruitless, base endeavors to supplant me.

K. Edw. I scorn it, sir; Elizabeth hath charms,
And I have equal right with you to admire them:
Nor see I ought so godlike in the form,

So all-commanding in the name of Warwick,
That he alone should revel in the charms
Of beauty, and monopolize perfection.
I knew not of your love.

War. By heaven, 'tis false!

You knew it all, and meanly took occasion,
Whilst I was busied in the noble office,
Your grace thought fit to honor me withal,
To tamper with a weak unguarded woman,-
To bribe her passions high, and basely steal
A treasure which your kingdom could not purchase.
K. Edw. How know you that? but be it as it may,

I had a right, nor will I tamely yield

My claim to happiness, the privilege,

To choose the partner of my throne and bed:

It is a branch of my prerogative.

War. Prerogative! what's that? the boast of tyrants: A borrowed jewel, glittering in the crown

With specious lustre, lent but to betray:

You had it, sir, and hold it from the people.

K. Edw. And therefore do I prize it; I would guard Their liberties, and they shall strengthen mine; But when proud faction and her rebel crew Insult their sovereign, trample on his laws, And bid defiance to his power, the people,,

In justice to themselves, will then defend
His cause, and vindicate the rights they gave.

War. Go to your darling people then; for soon,
If I mistake not, 'twill be needful; try

Their boasted zeal, and see if one of them.

Will dare to lift his arm up in your cause,

If I forbid him.

K. Edw. Is it so, my lord?

Then mark my words: I've been your slave too long,
And you have ruled me with a rod of iron.

But henceforth know, proud peer, I am thy master,
And will be so: the king who delegates
His power to other's hands, but ill deserves
The crown he wears.

War. Look well then to your own;

It sits but loosely on your head; for, know,
The man who injured Warwick never passed
Unpunished yet.

K. Edw.

Nor he who threatened Edward— You may repent it, sir-my guards there! seize This traitor, and convey him to the tower; There let him learn obedience.

(Enter guards, who seize Warwick.)

War. Slaves, stand off:

If I must yield my sword, I'll give it him
Whom it so long has served: there's not a part
In this old faithful steel, that is not stained
With English blood in grateful Edward's cause.
Give me my chains, they are the bands of friendship,
Of a king's friendship; for his sake, awhile
I'll wear them.

K. Edw. Hence: away with him.

War. "Tis well:

Exert your power, it may not last you long;
For know, though Edward may forget his friend,
That England will not. Now, sir, I attend you.



Mador. My lord, the prisoner. (Exit Mador.)

(Fitz-Edward is brought in guarded.)

Caswallon. Let me look on him

His friendly visit shall have fitting welcome.

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