Cou. As near, my liege, as all my woman's power
Can pawn itself to buy thy remedy.

Edw. 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.
Cou. I will, my liege.

Edw. Then take thyself a little way aside;
And tell thyself a king doth dote on thee;
Say, that within thy power it doth lie

To make him happy; and that thou hast sworn
To give me all the joy within thy power:
Do this, and tell me when I shall be happy.

Cou. 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.

Edw. Thou hear'st me say that I do dote on thee.
Cou. If on my beauty, take it if thou canst;
Though little, 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.

Edw. It is thy beauty that I would enjoy.

Cou. O, were it painted, I would wipe it off,

And dispossess myself, to give it thee:

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

Take one, and both; for, like an humble shadow,

It haunts the sunshine of my summer's life.

Edw. But thou mayst lend it me to sport withal,
Cou. As easy may my intellectual soul

Be lent away, and yet my body live,
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 lend her house, my lord, to thee,

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

The Earl of Warwick, father to the Countess of Salisbury, is required by Edward, upon his cath of duty, to go to his daughter, and command her to agree with his dishonourable proposals. The skill with which the father is made to deliver the message of the king, and to appear to recommend a compliance with his demands, but so at the same time as to make the guilty purpose doubly abhorrent, indicates no common power :-

"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 ?
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
1;
That thus have hous'd 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 thine 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 vastness 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 sugar'd 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,

Apparel'd sin in virtuous sentences,
And dwell upon thy answer in his suit.

Cou. Unnatural besiege! Woe me, unhappy,

To have escap'd the danger of my foes,

And to be ten times worse invir'd 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 branches be infected,
When poison hath encompassed the root:
No marvel, though the leprous infant die,
When the stern dam 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.

War. Why, now thou speak'st as I would have thee speak,
And mark how I unsay my words again.
An honourable grave is more esteem'd,

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!

Exit.

Cou. I'll follow thee; And, when my mind turns so,
My body sink my soul in endless woe!

Exit.

During the tempest of Edward's passion, the Prince of Wales arrives at the Castle of Roxburgh, and the conflict in the mind of the king is well imagined:

Edw. I see the boy. O, how his mother's face,

Moulded in his, corrects my stray'd desire,

And rates my heart, and chides my thievish eye;

Who, being rich enough in seeing her,

Yet seeks elsewhere: and basest theft is that
Which cannot check itself on poverty. —

Now, boy, what news?

Pri. I have assembled, my dear lord and father,
The choicest buds of all our English blood,
For our affairs in France; and here we come,
To take direction from your majesty.

Edw. Still do I see in him delineate

His mother's visage; those his eyes are hers,
Who, looking wistly on me, made me blush ;
For faults against themselves give evidence:
Lust is a fire; and men, like lanthorns, show

Light lust within themselves, even through themselves.
Away, loose silks of wavering vanity!

Shall the large limit of fair Brittany
By me be overthrown and shall I not
Master this little mansion of myself?
Give me an armour of eternal steel;
I go to conquer kings; And shall I then
Subdue myself, and be my enemy's friend?
It must not be.-Come, boy, forward, advance!
Let's with our colours sweep the air of France.
Lod. My liege, the countess, with a smiling cheer,
Desires access unto your majesty.

[Advancing from the door and whispering him.

Edw. Why, there it goes! that very smile of hers
Hath ransom'd captive France; and set the king,
The dauphin, and the peers, at liberty.—

Go, leave me, Ned, and revel with thy friends.

[Exit Prince.

The countess enters, and with the following scene suddenly terminates the ill-starred

passion of the king :

Edw. Now, my soul's playfellow! art thou come,

To speak the more than heavenly word of yea,

To my objection in thy beauteous love!

Cou. My father on his blessing hath commanded—
Edw. That thou shalt yield to me.

Cou. Ah, dear my liege, your due.

Edw. And that, my dearest love, can be no less

Than right for right, and tender love for love.

Cou. Than wrong for wrong, and endless hate for hate.-
But,-sith I see your majesty so bent,

That my unwillingness, my husband's love,
Your high estate, nor no respect respected
Can be my help, but that your mightiness
Will overbear and awe these dear regards,-
I bind my discontent to my content,
And, what I would not, I'll compel I will;
Provided that yourself remove those lets

That stand between your highness' love and mine.

Edw. Name them, fair countess, and, by heaven, I will.
Cou. It is their lives, that stand between our love,

That I would have chok'd up, my sovereign.

Edw. Whose lives, my lady?

Cou.

My thrice loving liege,

Your queen, and Salisbury my wedded husband;

Who living have that title in our love,

That we cannot bestow but by their death.

Edw. Thy opposition is beyond our law.
Cou. So is your desire: If the law

Can hinder you to execute the one,
Let it forbid you to attempt the other:

I cannot think you love me as you say,

Unless you do make good what you have sworn.

Edw. No more; thy husband and the queen shall die.
Fairer thou art by far than Hero was;

Beardless Leander not so strong as I:

He swom an easy current for his love:
But I will, through a helly spout of blood,
Arrive that Sestos where my Hero lies.

Cou. Nay, you'll do more; you'll make the river too,
With their heart-bloods that keep our love asunder,
Of which my husband, and your wife, are twain.

Edw. Thy beauty makes them guilty of their death,
And gives in evidence, that they shall die;
Upon which verdict, I, their judge, condemn them.
Cou. O perjur'd beauty! more corrupted judge!
When, to the great star-chamber o'er our heads,
The universal session calls to count

This packing evil, we both shall tremble for it.

Edw. What says my fair love; is she resolute?
Cou. Resolute to be dissolv'd; and, therefore, this,-
Keep but thy word, great king, and I am thine.
Stand where thou dost, I'll part a little from thee,

And see how I will yield me to thy hands.

[Turning suddenly upon him and showing two daggers.

Here by my side do hang my wedding knives:

Take thou the one, and with it kill thy queen,
And learn by me to find her where she lies;
And with the other I'll despatch my love,
Which now lies fast asleep within my heart:
When they are gone, then I'll consent to love.
Stir not, lascivious king, to hinder me ;

My resolution is more nimbler far,

Than thy prevention can be in my rescue.

And, if thou stir, I strike; therefore stand still,
And hear the choice that I will put thee to:
Either swear to leave thy most unholy suit,

And never henceforth to solicit me;

Or else by heaven [kneeling], this sharp-pointed knife
Shall stain the earth with that which thou would'st stain,

My poor chaste blood. Swear, Edward, swear,

Or I will strike, and die, before thee here,

Edw. Even by that Power I swear, that gives me now

The power to be ashamed of myself,

I never mean to part my lips again
In any word that tends to such a suit.
Arise, true English lady; whom our isle
May better boast of, than e'er Roman might
Of her, whose ransack'd treasury hath task'd
The vain endeavour of so many pens:
Arise; and be my fault thy honour's fame,
Which after ages shall enrich thee with.
I am awaked from this idle dream.