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.