Were to exceed those limited the world.

Take it

Farewell, for now I owe thee nothing.

JAFF. Say thou wilt live then.

PIER. For my life, dispose of it

Juft as thou wilt, because 'tis what I'm tir'd with.
JAFF. Oh Pierre !

PIER. No more.

JAFF. My eyes won't lofe the fight of thee, But languifh after thine, and ache with gazing. PIER. Leave me-Nay, then thus, thus I throw thee from me :

And curfes, great as is thy falfehood, catch thee.

VENICE PRESERVED.

EDWARD AND WARWICK.

EDW. LET me have no intruders; above all,

Keep Warwick from my fight

No welcome gueft, it seems, unless I ask

My lord of Suffolk's leave-there was a time
When Warwick wanted not his aid to gain

Admiffion here.

EDW. There was a time, perhaps,

When Warwick more defir'd, and more-deferv'd it.
WAR. Never; I've been a foolish faithful slave,

All my best years; the morning of my life
Hath been devoted to your service: what
Are now the fruits? Difgrace 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 truft in princes should be thus rewarded.

Q

Edw.

EDW. I thought, my lord, I had full well repay'd Your fervices with honours, wealth, and pow'r Unlimited thy all-directing hand;

Guided in fecret ev'ry latent wheel

Of government, and mov'd the whole machine :
Warwick was all in all, and pow'rless Edward
Stood like a cypher in the great account.

WAR. Who gave that cypher worth, and feated thee
On England's throne? Thy undiftinguish'd name
Had rotted in the duft from whence it sprang,

And moulder'd in oblivion, had not Warwick
Dug from its fordid mine the useless ore,
And stamp'd it with a diadem. Thou know'ft

This wretched country, doom'd, perhaps, like Rome,
To fall by its own felf-deftroying hand,

Toft for fo many years in the rough sea
Of civil difcord, but for me had perish'd.

In that diftrefsful hour I feiz'd the helm,

Bade the rough waves fubfide in peace, and steer'd
Your shatter'd veffel fafe into the harbour.

You may defpife, perhaps, that useless aid
Which you no longer want; but know, proud youth,
He who forgets a friend, deferves a foe.

EDW. Know too, reproach for benefits receiv'd
Pays ev'ry debt, and cancels obligation.

WAR. Why, that indeed in frugal honesty; A thrifty faving knowledge: when the debt Grows burdenfome, and cannot be discharg'd, A fponge will wipe out all, and coft you nothing. EDW. When you have counted o'er the numerous train Of mighty gifts your bounty lavish'd on me,

You may remember next the injuries

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

And I will make you ample fatisfaction.

WAR. Thou can it not: thou haft robb'd me of a jewel

It

It is not in thy power to restore:

I was the firft, fhall future annals fay,
That broke the facred bond of public truft
And mutual confidence; ambaffadors
In after times, mere inftruments, perhaps,
Of venal statesmen, fhall recal my name
To witnefs that they want not an example,
And plead my guilt to fanctify their own.
Amidst the herd of mercenary flaves

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

EDW. And would'st thou turn the vile reproach on me? If I have broke my faith, and ftain'd the name Of England, thank thy own pernicious counfels That urg'd me to it, and extorted from me A cold confent to what my heart abhorr❜d.

WAR. I have been abus'd, infulted, and betray'd; My injur'd honour cries aloud for vengeance ! Her wounds will never clofe!

EDW. Thefe gufts of paffion

Will but inflame them; if I have been right
Inform'd, my lord, befides thefe dang❜rous fcars
Of bleeding honour, you have other wounds
As deep, tho' not fo fatal; fuch, perhaps,
As none but fair Elizabeth can cure.

WAR.

EDW.

Elizabeth!

Nay, ftart not; I have caufe

To wonder most: I little thought, indeed,

When Warwick told me I might learn to love,
He was himself fo able to inftruct me:

Too well I know thy breach of friendship there,
Thy fruitless base endeavours to fupplant me.
EDW. I fcorn it, Sir,-Elizabeth hath charms,

And I have equal right with you to admire them;
Nor fee I aught fo god-like in the form,
So all-commanding in the name of Warwick,
That he alone fhould revel in the charms
Of beauty, and monopolize perfection.
I knew not of your love.

WAR. By Heav'n 'tis false!

You knew it all, and meanly took occafion,
Whilft I was busy'd in the noble office
Your grace thought fit to honour me withal,
To tamper with a weak unguarded woman,
To bribe her paffions high, and bafely steal
A treasure which your kingdom could not purchase.
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 borrow'd jewel, glitt'ring in the crown

With specious luftre, lent but to betray :

You had it, Sir, and hold it-from the people.

EDW. And therefore do I prize it; I would guard Their liberties, and they fhall ftrengthen mine; But when proud Faction, and her rebel crew, Infult their fov'reign, trample on his laws, And bid defiance to his pow'r, the people, In justice to themfelves, will then defend His caufe, and vindicate the rights they gave.

WAR. Go to your darling people, then; for foon,

If 1 mistake not, 'twill be needful; try

Their boasted zeal, and fee if one of them
Will dare to lift his arm up in your caufe,
If I forbid them.

EDW. Is it fo, my lord?

Then

Then mark my words: I've been your flave too long,
And you have rul'd me with a rod of iron;
But henceforth know, proud peer, I am thy mafter,
And will be fo: the king, who delegates

His pow'r to others' hands, but ill deferves

The crown he wears.

1

WAR.

Look well then to your own;

It fits but loosely on your head; for know,
The man who injur'd Warwick never pass'd
Unpunish'd yet.

EDW. Nor he who threaten'd Edward-
You may repent it, Sir,-my guards there-seize
This traitor, and convey him to the Tow'r;
There let him learn obedience.

EARL OF WARWICK.

CHAP. XII.

ORLANDO AND ADAM.

ORLA. WHO's there?

ADAM. What, my young mafter? Oh, my gentle mafter, Oh, my sweet master, oh you memory

Of old Sir Rowland! Why, what makes you here ?
Why are you virtuous? Why do people love you?
And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and valiant ?
Why would you be fo fond to overcome

The bony prifer of the humorous Duke ?

Your praise is come too swiftly home before you.
Know you not, mafter, to fome kind of men
Their graces ferve them but as enemies?

No more do yours: your virtues, gentle master,
Are fanctified and holy traitors to you.

Oh, what a world is this, when what is comely
Envenoms him that bears it!

ORLA, Why, what's the matter?