Shakespeare's Kings (128 page)

count
. Pardon my boldness, my thrice-gracious lords;

Let my intrusion here be call'd my duty,

That comes to see my sovereign how he fares.

k. ed
. Go, draw the same, I tell thee in what form.

lod
. I go.

[Exit]

count
. Sorry I am, to see my liege so sad:

What may thy subject do, to drive from thee

Thy gloomy consort, sullen melancholy?

k. ed
. Ah, lady, I am blunt, and cannot straw

The flowers of solace in a ground of shame:

Since I came hither, countess, I am wrong'd.

count
. Now, God forbid, that any in my house

Should think
my sovereign wrong! Thrice-gentl
e king,

Acquaint me with your cause of discontent.

k. ed
. How near then shall I be to remedy?

count
. As near, my liege, as all my woman's power

Can pawn itself to buy thy remedy.

k. ed
. If thou speak'st true, then have I my redress:

Engage thy power to redeem my joys,

And I am joyful, countess; else, I die.
count
. I will, my liege.
k. ed
. Swear, countess, that thou wilt.
count.
By Heaven, I will.

k. ed
. Then take thyself a
little
way aside,

And tell thyself, a king doth dote on thee:

(II, i)
Say that within thy power [it] doth He

To make him happy, and that thou hast sworn

To give him all the joy within thy power:

Do this; and tell me, when I shall be happy.

count
. All this is done, my thrice-dread sovereign:

That power of love, that I have power to give,

Thou hast with all devout obedience;

Employ me how thou wilt in proof thereof.

k. ed
. Thou hear'st me say, that I do dote on thee.

count
. If on my beauty, take it if thou canst;

Though littl
e, I do prize it ten times less:

If on my virtue, take it if thou canst;

For virtue's store by giving doth augment:

Be it on what it will, that I can give

And thou canst take away, inherit it.

k. ed
. It is thy beauty that I would enjoy.

count
. O, were it painted, I would wipe if off

And dispossess myself, to give it thee.

But, sovereign, it is solder'd to my life;

Take one, and both; for, li
ke an humble shadow,

It haun
ts the sunshine of my summer's li
fe.

k. ed
. But thou may'st leave it me, to sport withal.

count.
A
s
easy may my intellectual soul

Be lent away, and yet my body li
ve,

As lend my body, palace to my soul,

Away from her, and yet retain my soul.

My body is her bower, her court, her abbey,

And she an angel, pure, divine, unspotted;

If I should leave her house, my lord, to thee,

I kill my poor soul, and my poor soul me.

k. ed
. Didst thou not swear, to give me what I would?

count
. I did, my liege; so, what you would, I could.

k. ed
. I wish no more of thee than thou may'st give,

Nor beg I do not, but I rather buy;

That is, thy love; and, for that love of thine,

In rich exchange, I tender to thee mine.

count
. But that your lips were sacred, my lord,

You would profane the holy name of love.

That love, you offer me, you cannot give,

For Caesar owes that tribute to his queen:

That love, you beg of me, I cannot give,

For Sara owes that d
uty to her lord.

He that doth cli
p or counterfeit your stamp

Shall die, my lord: and will your sacred self

(II, i)
Commit high treason against the King of Heaven,

To stamp his image in forbidden metal,

Forgetting your allegiance and your oath?

In violating marriage' sacred law,

You break a greater honour than yourself:

To be a king, is of a younger house

Than to be married; your progenitor,

Sole-reigning Adam on the universe,

By God was honour'd for a married man,

But not by him anointed for a king.

It is a penalty to break your statutes,

Though not enacted with your highness' hand:

How much more, to infringe the holy act

Made by the mouth of God, seal'd with his hand?

I know, my sovereign — in my husband's love,

Who now doth loyal service in his wars

-Doth but to try the wife of Salisbury,

Whether she will hear a wanton's tale, or no;

Lest being therein guilty by my stay,

From that, not from my liege, I turn away.

Exit

k.
ed
. Whether is her beauty by her words divine,
Or are her words sweet chaplains to her beauty?
Like as the wind doth beautify a sail,
And as a sail becomes the unseen wind,
So do her words her beauty, beauty words.
O, that I were a honey-gathering bee,
To bear the comb of virtue from his flower;
And not a poison-sucking envious spider,
To turn the juice I take to deadly venom!
Religion is austere, and beauty gende;
Too strict a guardian for so fair a ward.
-
O, that she were, as is the air, to me!

Why, so she is; for, when I would embrace her,

This do I, and catch nothing but myself.

I must enjoy her; for I cannot beat,

With reason and reproof, fond love away.

Enter Warwick
Here comes her father:

I will work with him,

To bear my colours in this field of love.

war. How
is it, that my sovereign is so sad?

May I with pardon know your highness' grief,

And that my old endeavour will remove it,

(II, i)
It shall not cumber long your majesty.

k. ed
. A kind and voluntary gift thou proffer'st,

That I was forward to have begg'd of thee.

But, O thou world, great nurse of flattery,

Why dost thou tip men's tongues with golden words

And peise their deeds with weight of heavy lead,

That fair performance cannot follow promise?

O, that a man might hold the heart's close book,

And choke the lavish tongue when it doth utter

The breath of falsehood not character'd there!

war
. Far be it from the honour of my age

That I should owe bright gold and render lead!

Age is a cynic, not a flatterer:

I say again, that, if I knew your grief,

And that by me it may be lessened,

My proper harm should buy your highness' good.

k. ed
. These are the vulgar tenders of false men,

That never pay the duty of their words.

Thou wilt not stick to swear what thou hast said;

But, when thou know'st my grief's condition,

This rash-disgorged vomit of thy word

Thou wilt eat up again, and leave me helpless.

war
. By Heaven, I will not, though your majesty

Did bid me run upon your sword and die.

[k. ed
].
S
ay, that my grief is no way med
cinable,

But by the loss and bruising of thine honour?

war
. If nothing but that loss may vantage you,

I would account that loss my vantage too.

k. ed
. Think'st that thou canst unswear thy oath again?

war
. I cannot; nor I would not, if I could.

k. ed
. But, if thou dost, what shall I say to thee?

war
. What may be said to any perjur'd villain

That breaks the sacred warrant of an oath.

k. ed
. What wilt thou say to one that breaks an oath?

war
. That he hath broke his faith with God and man

And from them both stands excommunicate.

k. ed
. What office were it to suggest a man

To break a lawful and religious vow?

war
. An office for the devil, not for man.

k. ed
. That devil's office must thou do for me;

Or break thy oath or cancel all the bonds

Of love and duty 'twixt thyself and me.

And therefore, Warwick, if thou art thyself,

The lord and master of thy word and oath,

(II, i)
Go to thy daughter, and in my behalf

Command her, woo her, win her any ways,

To be my mistress and my secret love.

I will not stand to hear thee make reply;

Thy oath breaks hers, or let thy sovereign die.

Exit

war
. O doting king! O detestable office!

Well may I tempt myself to wrong myself.

When he hath sworn me by the name of God

To break a vow made by the name of God.

What if I swear by this right hand of mine

To cut this right hand off? the better way

Were to profane the idol than confound it:

But neither will I do; I'll keep mine oath

And to my daughter make a recantation

Of all the virtue I have preach'd to her.

I'll say, she must forget her husband Salisbury,

If she remember to embrace the king;

I'll say, an oath may easily be broken,

But not so easily pardon'd, being broken;

I'll say, it is true charity to love,

But not true love to be so charitable;

I'll say, his greatness may bear out the shame,

But not his kingdom can buy out the sin;

I'll say, it is my duty to persuade,

But not her honesty to give consent.

Enter Countess

See, where she comes: was never father, had

Against his child an embassage so bad.

count
. My lord and father, I have sought for you:

My mother and the peers importune you

To keep in presence
of his
majesty

And do your best to make his highness merry.

war. How
shall I enter in this graceless errand?

I must not call her child; for where's the father

That will, in such a suit, seduce his child?

Then, 'Wife of Salisbury', - shall I so begin?

No, he's my friend; and where is found the friend,

That will do friendship such endamagement? -

[To the Countess]

Neither my daughter, nor my dear friend's wife,

I am not Warwick, as thou think'st I am,

But an attorney from the court of hell;