LESSON LXXVI. KING EDWARD, WARWICK, AND SUFFOLK.-FRANKLIN. Edward. Good Suffolk, for awhile I would be private; therefore, wait without; Let me have no intruders; above all, Keep Warwick from my sight. [Exit Suffolk. Enter Warwick.] No welcome guest, it seems, unless I ask Ed. There was a time, perhaps, When Warwick more desired, and more deserved it. War. Never! I've been a foolish, faithful slave: All my best years, the morning of my life, Ed. I thought, my lord, I had full well repaid Guided in secret every latent wheel Of government, and moved the whole machine: War. Who gave that cipher worth, and seated thee • Edward IV., king of Englaud, born in 1441. b Warwick, see p. 152. Had rotted in the dust, from whence it sprung, Tossed for so many years in the rough sea In that distressful hour, I seized the helm, You may despise, perhaps, that useless aid Ed. Know too, reproach for benefits received, War. Why, that indeed is frugal honesty, A thrifty, saving knowledge; when the debt Grows burdensome, and cannot be discharged, A sponge will wipe out all and cost you nothing. Ed. When you have counted o'er the numerous train Of mighty gifts your bounty lavished on me, You may remember next the injuries Which I have done you; let me know them all, And I will make you ample satisfaction. War. Thou canst not; thou hast robbed me of a jewel It is not in thy power to restore. I was the first, shall future annals say, That broke the sacred bonds of public trust, And plead my guilt to sanctify their own. Amidst the herd of mercenary slaves That haunt your court, could none be found but Warwick, To be the shameless herald of a lie? Ed. And wouldst thou turn the vile reproach on me? If I have broke my faith, and stained the name Of England, thank thy own pernicious counsels That urged me to it, and extorted from me A cold consent to what my heart abhorred. War. I've been abused, insulted, and betrayed; My injured honor cries aloud for vengeance, Her wounds will never close. Ed. These gusts of passion Will but inflame them. If I have been right War. Elizabeth! Ed. Nay, start not: I have cause To wonder most. I little thought, indeed, But I've discovered all. War. And so have I. Too well I know thy breach of friendship there, Thy faithless, base endeavors to supplant me. Ed. I scorn it, sir! Elizabeth hath charms; Nor see I aught so god-like in the form, So all-commanding in the name of Warwick, War. 'Tis false ! You knew it all, and meanly took occasion- To tamper with a weak, unguarded woman, Your kingdom could not purchase. Ed. How know you that? - but be it as it I had a right, nor will I tamely yield My claim to happiness, the privilege To choose the partner of my throne: may, War. Prerogative! What's that? the boast of tyrants, A borrowed jewel, glittering in the crown With specious luster, lent but to betray. You had it, sir, and hold it, from the people. Ed. And therefore do I prize it; I would guard Their boasted zeal, and see if one of them Will dare to lift his arm up in your cause, Ed. Is it so, my lord? Then mark my words: I've been your slave too long, But henceforth, know, proud peer, I am thy master, His power to others' hands, but ill deserves The crown he wears. War. Look well then to your own: It sits but loosely on your head; for know, The man who injured Warwick, never passed Ed. Nor he who threatened Edward. You may repent it, sir. My guards there! seize LESSON LXXVII. CENTENNIAL ADDRESS. - STORY. 1. When we reflect on what has been, and is now, is it possible not to feel a profound sense of the responsibleness of this Republic to all future ages? What vast motives press upon us for lofty efforts! What brilliant prospects invite our enthusiasm! What solemn warnings, at once demand our vigilance, and moderate our confidence! 2. The old world has already revealed to us, in its unsealed books, the beginning and end of all its own marvelous struggles in the cause of liberty. Greece, lovely Greece, "the land of scholars, and the nurse of arms," where sister republics, in fair processions, chanted the praises of liberty and the gods, where, and what is she? For two thousand years the oppressor has bound her to the earth. Her arts are no more. The last, sad relics of her temples, are but the barracks of a ruthless soldiery; the fragments of her columns and her palaces, are in the dust, yet beautiful in ruin. 3. Where are the republics of modern times, which clustered around immortal Italy? Venice, and Genoa, exist but |