Mountingly o'er the body of this youth, A round is out of the ladder, and I stop Urs. Hen. What boots that Perkin fill a grave as deep As the earth's centre, if survive that other, That Warwick, son of malmsey-drinking Clarence, Urs. How say you? He's a youth Hen. (To himself) If Elizabeth Our wife, were but to see him, natural blood Would warm to him. White roses grow in groups. She shall not see him, for the sound of his voice, They say, is like his father's, and his eyes Have the same look. The clock strikes the doors open-the procession begins. I would not change this hour Of vengeance on the hated Yorks, the foes Of me and mine, for all that earth can give ! York and the Duchess advance from the gate. Here comes the villain Edward's son. Thank heaven, The fools are blind! (Aloud) Bring me this Warbeck forward ! Hen. (aside.) His father's second self! (Aloud.) You bargain well. Have you forgotten, Sir, Your head is ours already, yours and theirs. York. I might have kept my sanctuary, Sir, And wandered from this land untouched, unscathed, I lift the Church's helm, my head is bare ; Hen. What are you, Sir? We thought you were our royal cousin of York, King Edward's son, true brother of our wife, True prince, true king. What! Have you changed your note ? Are you our rightful Lord ? York. I thought so, Sir. Hen. But you confess you now?-Listen, my Lords, Listen, good gentlemen, followers of this man. Now Sir, say on. York. No. Are you of royal blood? Hen. Then who was your father? York. Warbeck. Hen. How dare you, Sir !-base, recreant, renegade, Traitor ! How dare you come into our realm, You, that confess,-that, now the game is lost Tell your poor dupes-you 're but a cozening knave; And now make bargain for your life. My life I give as freely give it, Sir, As Heaven gives light. These, my companions, Are still within the safeguard of the shrine. Hen. Are they? Ha! who's that woman? Bring her hither. Duch. Dear Warbeck! Oh! I love the name, since yours, Better than York, since it is yours no longer ; They shall not part us! He's no traitor, Sir ! Hen. Then he is worse-our prisoner, our sworn foeVanquished. York. Ah! Catherine, plead for me no more, My friends, lift up the banners once again, Ransom for theirs.-You're pardoned, gentlemen; Depart in peace. [to Urswick.] If they get thro' the forest, Duch. Let not Death come like an envious blight, That nips but half the blossom. Thus, linked together. York. Let us die No, my Catherine, no ! For you and honour. Duch. I will live for these. York. Then let us part. No tear! I thank you, Sir, Hen. No. To the Tower-to the Tower [Exeunt York, Duch., &c. Hen. Urswick, come near. How like a York he look'd! Place him beside his cousin in the Tower, Lord Warwick, Tho' eighteen years, is but a child in thought, Hen. He has enough of both to sit on a throne, And give his name to a shilling. Let them meet, SCENE II. [Exeunt. Westminster. Three weeks have elapsed. The Duchess has had intimation, through the Earl of Warwick's fool, of Warbeck's intended escape. The message is conveyed in the Jester's Bauble, which he leaves behind him; and while the Duchess is weeping with delight at the prospect of joining her husband in his flight, Hen. Enter Henry. Have you not wept enough yet? You shall not see me weep Where is your mistress? She's this moment gone. Hen. Go to her. [She is going.] Ho! come back. Well, look at me : I am the King. Duch. I know you, Sir. Hen. What, woman! Is that the whole ? A word of mine has power Three little weeks are past, that's all, [Exit Duchess.] And York's forgotten; she scarce deems his life I spoke to try her. He was noble, too, And loved her. Pah! She'll turn her widow's weeds Into a net, with meshes villainous close, To catch another husband. "Twould be shame To balk her angling.-Urswick ! [Sees the bauble. He must be that. We must break down his honor, sink him low In all men's eyes. Will he be bribed, wiled, driven, Urs. Hen. He'll not yield. Then he shall die! Enter Digby. Digby (hurriedly) My liege Hen. What now? Be calm as I am. What? Know you not yet that the quick hurried speech Is but for fools-to speak or listen to? What is it? Take your breath. What is it, sir! Dig. My liege, prince Edward and the duke of York. Hen. You mean lord Warwick, sir, and Perkin Warbeck. Dig. Pardon, your grace. They hatch a plot between them. Hen. Fear not that egg will addle. What's the plot? Dig. To fly, my liege. They've tampered with the guards; Four they have now. Hen. "Twill cost four ropes, sir John, To hang them. And when thought they to escape? Dig. To-night. Has been lord Warwick's playmate,-loves him, sir, As children love their fellows. Hen. What is all this? With Perkin's plot ? Dig. My daughter, sir, Well, sir John, What has this tale to do My Mabel, please your grace, Is of so loving a nature and so kind! She's kissed me with more heart-love than of wont Hung over me before she went to bed, And clung again to me i' the morning, sir, And wept, and had a heaving at her heart When she looked on me. And at last, your grace, For she in her fond fealty to her friend Was minded to go with them, -she knelt down |