Текст книги "William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition"

Автор книги: William Shakespeare

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 53 (всего у книги 250 страниц)

Sc. 2 Enter the Countess of Salisbury, above

COUNTESS OF SALISBURY

Alas, how much in vain my poor eyes gaze

For succour that my sovereign should send.

Ah, cousin Montague, I fear thou wants

The lively spirit sharply to solicit

With vehement suit the King in my behalf.

Thou dost not tell him what a grief it is

To be the scornful captive to a Scot,

Either to be wooed with broad untuned oaths,

Or forced by rough insulting barbarism.

Thou dost not tell him, if he here prevail,

How much they will deride us in the North,

And in their vile, uncivil, skipping jigs

Bray forth their conquest and our overthrow

Even in the barren, bleak and fruitless air—

Enter below David King of Scotland and Sir William Douglas with ⌈soldiers, meeting⌉ the Due de Lorraine

(Aside) I must withdraw. The everlasting foe

Comes to the wall. I’ll closely step aside

And list their babble, blunt and full of pride.

The Countess withdraws

KING OF SCOTLAND

My lord of Lorraine, to our brother of France

Commend us as the man in Christendom

That we most reverence and entirely love.

Touching your embassage, return and say

That we with England will not enter parley,

Nor never make fair weather, or take truce,

But burn their neighbour towns, and so persist

With eager roads beyond their city York;

And never shall our bonny riders rest,

Nor rusting canker have the time to eat

Their light-borne snaffle, nor their nimble spur,

Nor lay aside their jacks of gimmaled mail,

Nor hang their staves of grained Scottish ash

In peaceful wise upon their city walls,

Nor from their buttoned tawny leathern belts

Dismiss their biting whinyards, till your King

Cry out, ‘Enough! Spare England now for pity!’

Farewell, and tell him that you leave us here,

Before this castle; say you came from us

Even when we had that yielded to our hands.

DUC DE LORRAINE

Take I my leave, and fairly will return

Your acceptable greeting to my King. Exit

KING OF SCOTLAND (to Douglas)

Now, Douglas, to our former task again

For the division of this certain spoil.

DOUGLAS

My liege, I crave the lady, and no more.

KING OF SCOTLAND

Nay, soft ye, sir; first I must make my choice,

And first I do bespeak her for myself.

DOUGLAS

Why then, my liege, let me enjoy her jewels.

KING OF SCOTLAND

Those are her own, still liable to her;

And who inherits her hath those with all.

Enter a Scottish messenger in haste

MESSENGER

My liege, as we were pricking on the hills

To fetch in booty, marching hitherward

We might descry a mighty host of men.

The sun, reflecting on the armour, showed

A field of plate; a wood of picks advanced.

Bethink your highness speedily herein:

An easy march within four hours will bring

The hindmost rank unto this place, my liege.

KING OF SCOTLAND

Dislodge! Dislodge! It is the King of England!

DOUGLAS ⌈to the Messenger⌉

Jemmy, my man, saddle my bonny black.

KING OF SCOTLAND

Mean’st thou to fight, Douglas? We are too weak.

DOUGLAS

I know it well, my liege, and therefore fly.

COUNTESS OF SALISBURY (coming forward above)

My lords of Scotland, will ye stay and drink?

KING OF SCOTLAND

She mocks us, Douglas. I cannot endure it.

COUNTESS OF SALISBURY

Say, good my lord, which is he must have the lady,

And which her jewels? I am sure, my lords,

Ye will not hence till you have shared the spoils.

KING OF SCOTLAND

She heard the messenger and heard our talk,

And now that comfort makes her scorn at us.

Enter another ⌈Scottish⌉ messenger

SECOND MESSENGER

Arm, my good lord! O we are all surprised!

After the French ambassador, my liege,

And tell him that you dare not ride to York.

⌈COUNTESS OF SALISBURY (to the King of Scotland)⌉

Excuse it that your bonny horse is lame.

KING OF SCOTLAND ⌈aside⌉

She heard that too! Intolerable grief!

(To the Countess) Woman, farewell, although I do not stay—

COUNTESS OF SALISBURY

‘Tis not for fear, and yet you run away. ⌈Exeunt Scots⌉

O happy comfort, welcome to our house!

The confident and boist’rous boasting Scot,

That swore before my walls they would not back

For all the armed power of this land,

With faceless fear that ever turns his back,

Turned hence against the blasting north-east wind

Upon the bare report and name of arms!

Enter Sir William de Montague with soldiers

O summer’s day! See where my cousin comes!

MONTAGUE

How fares my aunt? We are not Scots—

Why do you shut your gates against your friends?

COUNTESS OF SALISBURY

Well may I give a welcome, coz, to thee,

For thou com’st well to chase my foes from hence.

MONTAGUE

The King himself is come in person hither.

Dear aunt, descend, and gratulate his highness.

COUNTESS OF SALISBURY

How may I entertain his majesty

To show my duty and his dignity?

Exit from above

Enter King Edward, the Earl of Warwick and the Comte d’Artois, with others, ⌈including Lodowick⌉

KING EDWARD

What, are the stealing foxes fled and gone

Before we could uncouple at their heels?

EARL OF WARWICK

They are, my liege, but with a cheerful cry

Hot hounds and hardy chase them at the heels.

Enter the Countess of Salisbury below

KING EDWARD

This is the Countess, Warwick, is it not?

EARL OF WARWICK

Even she, my liege, whose beauty tyrants’ fear—

As a May blossom with pernicious winds—

Hath sullied, withered, overcast and done.

KING EDWARD

Hath she been fairer, Warwick, than she is?

EARL OF WARWICK

My gracious King, fair is she not at all

If that her self were by to stain herself

As I have seen her when she was her self.

KING EDWARD ⌈aside⌉

What strange enchantment lurked in those her eyes,

When they excelled this excellence they have,

That now her dim decline hath power to draw

My subject eyes from piercing majesty

To gaze on her with doting admiration?

COUNTESS OF SALISBURY (kneeling before King Edward)

In duty, lower than the ground I kneel,

And fore my dull knees bow my feeling heart,

To witness my obedience to your highness

With many millions of a subject’s thanks

For this your royal presence, whose approach

Hath driven war and danger from my gate.

KING EDWARD

Lady, stand up. I come to bring thee peace,

However thereby I have purchased war.

COUNTESS OF SALISBURY (rising)

No war to you, my liege. The Scots are gone

And gallop home toward Scotland with their hate.

KING EDWARD (aside)

Lest yielding here I pine in shameful love—

(Aloud) Come, we’ll pursue the Scots. Artois, away!

COUNTESS OF SALISBURY

A little while, my gracious sovereign, stay,

And let the power of a mighty king

Honour our roof. My husband, in the wars,

When he shall hear it, will triumph for joy.

Then, dear my liege, now niggard not thy state;

Being at the wall, enter our homely gate.

KING EDWARD

Pardon me, Countess, I will come no near:

I dreamed tonight of treason, and I fear.

COUNTESS OF SALISBURY

Far from this place let ugly treason lie.

KING EDWARD (aside)

No farther off than her conspiring eye,

Which shoots infected poison in my heart

Beyond repulse of wit or cure of art.

Now in the sun alone it doth not lie

With light to take light from a mortal eye;

For here two day-stars that mine eyes would see

More than the sun steals mine own light from me.

Contemplative desire, desire to be

In contemplation that may master thee.

(Aloud) Warwick, Artois, to horse and let’s away!

COUNTESS OF SALISBURY

What might I speak to make my sovereign stay?

KING EDWARD (aside)

What needs a tongue to such a speaking eye

That more persuades than winning oratory?

COUNTESS OF SALISBURY

Let not thy presence, like the April sun,

Flatter our earth and suddenly be done.

More happy do not make our outward wall

Than thou wilt grace our inner house withal.

Our house, my liege, is like a country swain,

Whose habit rude, and manners blunt and plain,

Presageth naught, yet inly beautified

With bounty’s riches and fair hidden pride.

For where the golden ore doth buried lie,

The ground, undecked with nature’s tapestry,

Seems barren, sere, unfertile, fruitless, dry;

And where the upper turf of earth doth boast

His pride, perfumes and parti-coloured cost,

Delve there and find this issue and their pride

To spring from ordure and corruptious stied.

But, to make up my all-too-long compare,

These ragged walls no testimony are

What is within, but like a cloak doth hide

From weather’s waste the under garnished pride.

More gracious than my terms can, let thee be:

Entreat thyself to stay a while with me.

KING EDWARD

As wise as fair—what fond fit can be heard

When wisdom keeps the gate as beauty’s guard?

Countess, albeit my business urgeth me

It shall attend while I attend on thee.

Come on, my lords, here will I host tonight.

Exeunt ⌈all but Lodowick⌉

LODOWICK

I might perceive his eye in her eye lost,

His ear to drink her sweet tongue’s utterance,

And changing passion, like inconstant clouds

That rack upon the carriage of the winds,

Increase and die in his disturbed cheeks.

Lo, when she blushed, even then did he look pale,

As if her cheeks by some enchanted power

Attracted had the cherry blood from his.

Anon, with reverent fear when she grew pale,

His cheeks put on their scarlet ornaments,

But no more like her oriental red

Than brick to coral or live things to dead.

Why did he then thus counterfeit her looks?

If she did blush, ‘twas tender modest shame

Being in the sacred presence of a king.

If he did blush, ’twas rude immodest shame

To vail his eyes amiss, being a king.

If she looked pale, ‘twas seely woman’s fear

To bear herself in presence of a king.

If he looked pale, it was with guilty fear

To dote amiss, being a mighty king.

Then, Scottish wars, farewell. I fear ’twill prove

A ling’ring English siege of peevish love.

Enter King Edward

Here comes his highness, walking all alone.

⌈Lodowick withdraws⌉

KING EDWARD (aside)

She is grown more fairer far since I came hither,

Her voice more silver every word than other,

Her wit more fluent. What a strange discourse

Unfolded she of David and his Scots:

‘Even thus’, quoth she, ‘he spake,’ and then spoke broad,

With epithets and accents of the Scot,

But somewhat better than the Scot could speak.

‘And thus,’ quoth she, and answered then herself,

For who could speak like her? But she herself

Breathes from the wall an angel’s note from heaven

Of sweet defiance to her barbarous foes.

When she would talk of peace, methinks her tongue

Commanded war to prison; when of war,

It wakened Caesar from his Roman grave

To hear war beautified by her discourse;

Wisdom is foolishness but in her tongue,

Beauty a slander but in her fair face,

There is no summer but in her cheerful looks,

Nor frosty winter but in her disdain.

I cannot blame the Scots that did besiege her,

For she is all the treasure of our land,

But call them cowards that they ran away,

Having so rich and fair a cause to stay.

(Aloud) Art thou there, Lod’wick?

⌈Lodowick comes forward⌉

Give me ink and paper.

LODOWICK I will, my liege.

KING EDWARD

And bid the lords hold on their play at chess,

For we will walk and meditate alone.

LODOWICK I will, my sovereign. Exit

KING EDWARD

This fellow is well read in poetry,

And hath a lusty and persuasive spirit.

I will acquaint him with my passion,

Which he shall shadow with a veil of lawn,

Through which the queen of beauty’s queen shall see

Herself the ground of my infirmity.

Enter Lodowick, with pen, ink and paper

Hast thou pen, ink and paper ready, Lod’wick?

LODOWICK Ready, my liege.

KING EDWARD

Then in the summer arbour sit by me;

Make it our council house or cabinet:

Since green our thoughts, green be the conventicle

Where we will ease us by disburd’ning them.

⌈They sit. Lodowick prepares to write⌉

Now, Lod‘wick, invocate some golden muse

To bring thee hither an enchanted pen

That may for sighs set down true sighs indeed,

Talking of grief, to make thee ready groan,

And when thou write’st of tears, encouch the word

Before and after with such sweet laments

That it may raise drops in a Tartar’s eye,

And make a flint-heart Scythian pitiful—

For so much moving hath a poet’s pen.

Then, if thou be a poet, move thou so

And be enriched by thy sovereign’s love.

For if the touch of sweet concordant strings

Could force attendance in the ears of hell,

How much more shall the strains of poets’ wit

Beguile and ravish soft and human minds?

LODOWICK

To whom, my lord, shall I direct my style?

KING EDWARD

To one that stains the fair and sots the wise,

Whose body is an abstract or a brief,

Contains each general virtue in the world.

‘Better than beautiful’, thou must begin,

Devise for fair a fairer word than ‘fair’,

And every ornament that thou wouldst praise,

Fly it a pitch above the soar of praise.

For flattery fear thou not to be convicted,

For were thy admiration ten times more,

Ten times ten thousand more the worth exceeds

Of that thou art to praise thy praise’s worth.

Begin; I will to contemplate the while.

Forget not to set down how passionate,

How heart-sick and how full of languishment

Her beauty makes me.

LODOWICK Write I to a woman?

KING EDWARD

What beauty else could triumph over me,

Or who but women do our love-lays greet?

What think’st thou I did bid thee praise? A horse?

LODOWICK

Of what condition or estate she is

’Twere requisite that I should know, my lord.

KING EDWARD

Of such estate that hers is as a throne,

And my estate the footstool where she treads.

Then mayst thou judge what her condition is

By the proportion of her mightiness.

Write on, while I peruse her in my thoughts.

⌈ ⌉

Her voice to music or the nightingale.

To music every summer-leaping swain

Compares his sunburnt lover when she speaks,

And why should I speak of the nightingale?

The nightingale sings of adulterate wrong

And that compare is too satirical,

For sin, though sin, would not be so esteemed,

But rather virtue sin, sin virtue deemed.

Her hair far softer than the silkworm’s twist,

Like to a flattering glass doth make more fair

The yellow amber—‘like a flattering glass’

Comes in too soon: for writing of her eyes

I’ll say that like a glass they catch the sun,

And thence the hot reflection doth rebound

Against my breast and burns my heart within.

Ah, what a world of descant makes my soul

Upon this voluntary ground of love!

Come, Lod’wick: hast thou turned thy ink to gold?

If not, write but in letters capital

My mistress’ name, and it will gild thy paper.

Read, Lod’wick, read!

Fill thou the empty hollows of mine ears

With the sweet hearing of thy poetry!

LODOWICK

I have not to a period brought her praise.

KING EDWARD

Her praise is as my Love—both infinite,

Which apprehend such violent extremes

That they disdain an ending period.

Her beauty hath no match but my affection;

Hers more than most, mine most, and more than more;

Hers more to praise than tell the sea by drops—

Nay more!—than drop the massy earth by sands,

And sand by sand print them in memory.

Then wherefore talk’st thou of a period

To that which craves unended admiration?

Read. Let us hear.

LODOWICK (reading)

‘More fair and chaste than is the queen of shades’—

KING EDWARD (staying him)

That line hath two faults, gross and palpable.

Compar’st thou her to the pale queen of night,

Who, being set in dark, seems therefore light?

What is she when the sun lifts up his head

But like a fading taper, dim and dead?

My love shall brave the eye of heaven at noon,

And, being unmasked, outshine the golden sun!

LODOWICK

What is the other fault, my sovereign lord?

KING EDWARD

Read o’er the line again.

LODOWICK (reading) ‘More fair and chaste’—

KING EDWARD (staying him)

I did not bid thee talk of chastity,

To ransack so the treasure of her mind,

For I had rather have her chased than chaste!

Out with the moon line! I will none of it.

And let me have her likened to the sun-

Say she hath thrice more splendour than the sun,

That her perfections emulates the sun,

That she breeds sweets as plenteous as the sun,

That she doth thaw cold winter like the sun,

That she doth cheer fresh summer like the sun,

That she doth dazzle gazers like the sun,

And in this application to the sun

Bid her be free and general as the sun,

Who smiles upon the basest weed that grows

As lovingly as on the fragrant rose.

Let’s see what follows that same moonlight line.

LODOWICK (reading)

‘More fair and chaste than is the queen of shades,

More bold in constancy’—

KING EDWARD (staying him)

In constancy than who?

LODOWICK (reading)

‘...than Judith was.’

KING EDWARD

O monstrous line! Put in the next a sword

And I shall woo her to cut off my head!

Blot, blot, good Lod’wick. Let us hear the next.

LODOWICK There’s all that yet is done.

KING EDWARD

I thank thee then. Thou hast done little ill,

But what is done is passing passing ill.

No, let the captain talk of boist’rous war,

The prisoner of emurèd dark constraint;

The sick man best sets down the pangs of death,

The man that starves the sweetness of a feast,

The frozen soul the benefit of fire,

And every grief his happy opposite.

Love cannot sound well but in lovers’ tongues.

Give me the pen and paper. I will write.

Lodowick gives him the pen and paper.

Enter the Countess of Salisbury

(Aside) But soft—here comes the treasurer of my spirit.

(Aloud to Lodowick, showing him the paper in his hand)

Lod‘wick, thou know’st not how to draw a battle!

These wings, these flankers and these squadrons

Argue in thee defective discipline.

Thou shouldst have placed this here, this other here—

COUNTESS OF SALISBURY

Pardon my boldness, my thrice-gracious lords.

Let my intrusion here be called my duty

That comes to see my sovereign how he fares.

KING EDWARD (to Lodowick, giving him the paper)

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

LODOWICK I go. Exit

COUNTESS OF SALISBURY

Sorry I am to see my liege so sad.

What may thy subject do to drive from thee

Thy gloomy consort, sullen melancholy?

KING EDWARD

Ah, lady, I am blunt and cannot strew

The flowers of solace in a ground of shame.

Since I came hither, Countess, I am wronged.

COUNTESS OF SALISBURY

Now God forbid that any in my house

Should think my sovereign wrong! Thrice-gentle King,

Acquaint me with thy cause of discontent.

KING EDWARD

How near, then, shall I be to remedy?

COUNTESS OF SALISBURY

As near, my liege, as all my woman’s power

Can pawn itself to buy thy remedy.

KING EDWARD

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.

COUNTESS OF SALISBURY I will, my liege.

KING EDWARD Swear, Countess, that thou wilt.

COUNTESS OF SALISBURY By heaven, I will.

KING EDWARD

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 him all the joy within thy power-

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

COUNTESS OF SALISBURY

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.

KING EDWARD

Thou hear’st me say that I do dote on thee.

COUNTESS OF SALISBURY

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.

KING EDWARD

It is thy beauty that I would enjoy.

COUNTESS OF SALISBURY

O, were it painted I would wipe it off

And dispossess myself to give it thee!

But, sovereign, it is soldered to my life:

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

It haunts the sunshine of my summer’s life—

KING EDWARD

But thou mayst lend it me to sport withal.

COUNTESS OF SALISBURY

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.

KING EDWARD

Didst thou not swear to give me what I would?

COUNTESS OF SALISBURY

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

KING EDWARD

I wish no more of thee than thou mayst 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.

COUNTESS OF SALISBURY

But that your lips were sacred, good 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 Sarah owes that duty to her lord.

He that doth clip or counterfeit your stamp

Shall die, my lord: and will your sacred self

Commit high treason ‘gainst 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 o’er the universe,

By God was honoured 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, sealed with his hand!

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

Who now doth loyal service in his wars—

Doth but so 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

KING EDWARD

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 beauties, beauty words.

O, that I were a honey-gathering bee

To bear the comb of virtue from this flower,

And not a poison-sucking, envious spider

To turn the juice I take to deadly venoml

Religion is austere, and beauty gentle—

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 (embracing the air), and catch nothing but myself.

I must enjoy her, for I cannot beat

With reason and reproof fond love away.

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