Enter the Earl of Warwick
(Aside) Here comes her father. I will work with him
To bear my colours in this field of love.
EARL OF WARWICK
How is it that my sovereign is so sad?
May I, with pardon, know your highness’ grief?
An that my old endeavour will remove it,
It shall not cumber long your majesty.
KING EDWARD
A kind and voluntary gift thou proffer’st
That I was forward to have begged 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 charactered there!
EARL OF WARWICK
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.
KING EDWARD
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 griefs condition
This rash disgorged vomit of thy word
Thou wilt eat up again, and leave me helpless.
EARL OF WARWICK
By heaven, I will not, though your majesty
Did bid me run upon your sword and die!
KING EDWARD
Say that my grief is no way medicinable
But by the loss and bruising of thine honour?
EARL OF WARWICK
If nothing but that loss may vantage you
I would account that loss my vantage too.
KING EDWARD
Think’st that thou canst unswear thy oath again?
EARL OF WARWICK
I cannot, nor I would not if I could.
KING EDWARD
But if thou dost, what shall I say to thee?
EARL OF WARWICK
What may be said to any perjured villain
That breaks the sacred warrant of an oath.
KING EDWARD
What wilt thou say to one that breaks an oath?
EARL OF WARWICK
That he hath broke his faith with God and man,
And from them both stands excommunicate.
KING EDWARD
What office were it to suggest a man
To break a lawful and religious vow?
EARL OF WARWICK
An office for the devil, not for man.
KING EDWARD
That devil’s office must thou do for me,
Or break thy oath and 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,
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 break hers, or let thy sovereign die. Exit
EARL OF WARWICK
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 preached 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 pardoned, 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 the Countess of Salisbury
(
Aside
) See where she comes. Was never father had
Against his child an embassage so bad.
COUNTESS OF SALISBURY
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.
EARL OF WARWICK (
aside
)
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,
That thus have housed my spirit in his form
To do a message to thee from the King:
‘The mighty King of England dotes on thee:
He that hath power to take away thy life
Hath power to take thy honour. Then consent
To pawn thine honour rather than thy life;
Honour is often lost and got again,
But life, once gone, hath no recovery.
The sun that withers hay doth nourish grass,
The King that would distain thee, will advance thee.
The poets write that great Achilles’ spear
Could heal the wound it made; the moral is,
What mighty men misdo they can amend.
The lion doth become his bloody jaws
And grace his foragement by being mild
When vassal fear lies trembling at his feet.
The King will, in his glory, hide thy shame,
And those that gaze on him, to find out thee,
Will lose their eyesight looking in the sun.
What can one drop of poison harm the sea
Whose hugy vastures can digest the ill
And make it lose his operation?
The King’s great name will temper thy misdeeds,
And give the bitter potion of reproach
A sugared, sweet and most delicious taste.
Besides, it is no harm to do the thing
Which, without shame, could not be left undone.’
Thus have I, in his majesty’s behalf,
Apparelled sin in virtuous sentences,
And dwell upon thy answer in his suit.
COUNTESS OF SALISBURY
Unnatural besiege! Woe me unhappy,
To have escaped the danger of my foes
And to be ten times worse envir‘ned by friends!
Hath he no means to stain my honest blood
But to corrupt the author of my blood
To be his scandalous and vile solicitor?
No marvel though the branch be then infected,
When poison hath encompassed the root;
No marvel though the leprous infant die,
When the stern dame envenometh the dug.
Why then, give sin a passport to offend,
And youth the dangerous rein of liberty.
Blot out the strict forbidding of the law,
And cancel every canon that prescribes
A shame for shame, or penance for offence.
No, let me die if his too boist’rous will
Will have it so, before I will consent
To be an actor in his graceless lust.
EARL OF WARWICK
Why, now thou speak‘st as I would have thee speak!
And mark how I unsay my words again:
An honourable grave is more esteemed
Than the polluted closet of a king.
The greater man, the greater is the thing,
Be it good or bad, that he shall undertake.
An unreputed mote flying in the sun
Presents a greater substance than it is.
The freshest summer’s day doth soonest taint
The loathed carrion that it seems to kiss.
Deep are the blows made with a mighty axe.
That sin doth ten times aggravate itself
That is committed in a holy place.
An evil deed done by authority
Is sin and subornation. Deck an ape
In tissue, and the beauty of the robe
Adds but the greater scorn unto the beast.
A spacious field of reasons could I urge
Between his glory, daughter, and thy shame:
That poison shows worst in a golden cup;
Dark night seems darker by the lightning flash;
Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds;
And every glory that inclines to sin,
The shame is treble by the opposite.
So leave I with my blessing in thy bosom,
Which then convert to a most heavy curse
When thou convert’st from honour’s golden name
To the black faction of bed-blotting shame.
COUNTESS OF SALISBURY
I’ll follow thee, and when my mind turns so,
My body sink my soul in endless woe. Exeunt
Sc. 3
Enter at one door the Earl of Derby from France. At another door, enter Lord Audley with a drummer
EARL OF DERBY
Thrice-noble Audley, well encountered here.
How is it with our sovereign and his peers?
AUDLEY
‘Tis full a fortnight since I saw his highness,
What time he sent me forth to muster men,
Which I accordingly have done, and bring them hither,
In fair array, before his majesty.
What news, my lord of Derby, from the Emperor?
EARL OF DERBY
As good as we desire. The Emperor
Hath yielded to his highness friendly aid,
And makes our king lieutenant-general
In all his lands and large dominions.
Then
via
for the spacious bounds of France!
AUDLEY
What, doth his highness leap to hear these news?
EARL OF DERBY
I have not yet found time to open them.
The King is in his closet, malcontent.
For what I know not, but he gave in charge
Till after dinner none should interrupt him.
The Countess Salisbury and her father Warwick,
Artois, and all, look underneath the brows.
AUDLEY
Undoubtedly, then, something is amiss.
EARL OF DERBY
The trumpets sound. The King is now abroad.
COMTE D’ARTOIS Here comes his highness.
EARL OF DERBY (
to the King
)
Befall my sovereign all my sovereign’s wish.
KING EDWARD ⌈
aside
⌉
Ah, that thou wert a witch to make it so.
EARL OF DERBY
The Emperor greeteth you—
KING EDWARD ⌈
aside
⌉ Would it were the Countess.
EARL OF DERBY
—And hath accorded to your highness’ suit.
KING EDWARD ⌈
aside
⌉
Thou liest. She hath not, but I would she had.
AUDLEY
All love and duty to my lord the King.
KING EDWARD ⌈
aside
⌉
Well, all but one is none. (
To Audley
) What news with you?
AUDLEY
I have, my liege, levied those horse and foot,
According as your charge, and brought them hither.
KING EDWARD
Then let those foot trudge hence upon those horse,
According to our discharge, and be gone.
Derby, I’ll look upon the Countess’ mind anon.
EARL OF DERBY The Countess’ mind, my liege?
KING EDWARD
I mean the Emperor. Leave me alone.
AUDLEY (
to Derby
)
What is his mind?
EARL OF DERBY Let’s leave him to his humour.
Exeunt Derby and Audley
KING EDWARD
Thus from the heart’s abundance speaks the tongue:
‘Countess’ for ‘Emperor’—and indeed why not?
She is as imperator over me, and I to her
Am as a kneeling vassal that observes
The pleasure or displeasure of her eye.
(
To Lodowick
) What says the more-than-Cleopatra’s
match
To Caesar now?
LODOWICK That yet, my liege, ere night
She will resolve your majesty.
KING EDWARD
What drum is this that thunders forth this march
To start the tender Cupid in my bosom?
Poor sheepskin, how it brawls with him that beateth it!
Go, break the thund’ring parchment-bottom out
And I will teach it to conduct sweet lines
Unto the bosom of a heavenly nymph;
For I will use it as my writing paper,
And so reduce him from a scolding drum
To be the herald, and dear counsel-bearer,
Betwixt a goddess and a mighty king.
Go, bid the drummer learn to touch the lute,
Or hang him in the braces of his drum;
For now we think it an uncivil thing
To trouble heaven with such harsh resounds. Away!
Exit Lodowick
The quarrel that I have requires no arms
But these of mine, and these shall meet my foe
In a deep march of penetrable groans.
My eyes shall be my arrows, and my sighs
Shall serve me as the vantage of the wind
To whirl away my sweet’st artillery.
Ah, but alas, she wins the sun of me,
For that is she herself, and thence it comes
That poets term the wanton warrior blind.
But love hath eyes as judgement to his steps,
Till too much loved glory dazzles them—