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Glo. This is the fruit of rashness!.

not,

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How that the guilty kindred of the queen

Look'd pale, when they did hear of Clarence' death?

O! they did urge it still unto the king;

Heaven will revenge it. Come, lords; will you go, To comfort Edward with our company?

Buck. We wait upon your grace.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

The Same.

Enter the Duchess of YORK, with a Son and Daughter of CLarence.

Son. Good grandam, tell us, is our father dead? Duch. No, boy.

Daugh. Why do you weep so oft? and beat your breast;

And cry-O Clarence, my unhappy son!

Son. Why do you look on us, and shake your head,

And call us-orphans, wretches, cast-aways,
If that our noble father be alive?

Duch. My pretty cousins, you mistake me both I do lament the sickness of the king,

As loath to lose him, not your father's death;
It were lost sorrow, to wail one that's lost.

Son. Then, grandam, you conclude that he is dead.

The king my uncle is to blame for this.

Duch. Peace, children, peace! the king doth love you well:

Incapable and shallow innocents,

You cannot guess who caus'd your father's death.

6 Ignorant.

Son. Grandam, we can: for my good uncle
Gloster

Told me, the king, provok'd to't by the queen,
Devis'd impeachments to imprison him:
And when my uncle told me so, he wept,
And pitied me, and kindly kiss'd my cheek;
Bade me rely on him, as on my father,
And he would love me dearly as his child.
Duch. Ah, that deceit should steal such gentle
shapes,

And with a virtuous visor hide deep vice!
He is my son, ay, and therein my shame,
Yet from my breast he drew not this deceit.
Son. Think you, my uncle did dissemble, gran-
dam?

Duch. Ay, boy.

Son. I cannot think it. Hark! what noise is

this!

Enter Queen ELIZABETH distractedly; RIVERS and DORSET, following her.

Q. Eliz. Ah! who shall hinder me to wail and
weep?

To chide my fortune, and torment myself?
I'll join with black despair against my soul,
And to myself become an enemy.

Duch. What means this scene of rude impatience?
Q. Eliz. To make an act of tragick violence:
Edward, my lord, thy son, our king, is dead.
Why grow the branches, when the root is gone?
Why wither not the leaves, that want their

If

sap:

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you will live, lament; if die, be brief; That our swift-winged souls may catch the king's; Or, like obedient subjects, follow him

To his new kingdom of perpetual rest.

Duch. Ah, so much interest have I in thy sorrow,

As I had title in thy noble husband!
I have bewept a worthy husband's death,
And liv'd by looking on his images:

But now two mirrors of his princely semblance
Are crack'd in pieces by malignant death;
And I for comfort have but one false glass,
That grieves me when I see my shame in him.
Thou art a widow; yet thou art a mother,

my

And hast the comfort of thy children left thee:
But death hath snatch'd husband from my arms,
And pluck'd two crutches from my feeble hands,
Clarence and Edward. O, what cause have I,
(Thine being but a moiety of my grief,)

To over-go thy plaints, and drown thy cries!
Son. Ah, aunt! you wept not for our father's
death;

How can we aid you with our kindred tears? Daugh. Our fatherless distress was left unmoan'd, Your widow-dolour likewise be unwept!

Q. Eliz. Give me no help in lamentation, I am not barren to bring forth laments: All springs reduce their currents to mine eyes, That I, being govern'd by the watry moon, May send forth plenteous tears to drown the world! Ah, for my husband, for my dear lord Edward! Chil. Ah, for our father, for our dear lord Clarence !

Duch. Alas, for both, both mine, Edward and Clarence!

Q. Eliz. What stay had I, but Edward? and he's

gone.

Chil. What stay had we, but Clarence? and he's

gone.

Duch. What stays had I, but they? and they are

gone.

Q. Eliz. Was never widow, had so dear a loss.
Chil. Were never orphans, had so dear a loss.
Duch. Was never mother had so dear a loss.

Alas! I am the mother of these griefs;
Their woes are parcell'd', mine are general,
She for an Edward weeps, and so do I;

7 Divided.

I for a Clarence weep, so doth not she:
These babes for Clarence weep, and so do I:
I for an Edward weep, so do not they :

Alas! you three, on me, threefold distress'd,
Pour all your tears, I am your sorrow's nurse,
And I will pamper it with lamentations.

Dor. Comfort, dear mother; God is much displeas'd,

That you take with unthankfulness his doing;
In common worldly things, 'tis call'd — ungrateful,
With dull unwillingness to repay a debt,
Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent;
Much more to be thus opposite with heaven,
For it requires the royal debt it lent you.

Riv. Madam, bethink you, like a careful mother, Of the young prince your son: send straight for

him,

Let him be crown'd; in him your comfort lives: Drown desperate sorrow in dead Edward's grave, And plant your joys in living Edward's throne.

Enter GLOSTER, BUCKINGHAM, STANLEY, HASTINGS, RATCLIFF, and others.

Glo. Sister have comfort: all of us have cause To wail the dimming of our shining star;

But none can cure their harms by wailing them.— Madam, my mother, I do cry you mercy,

I did not see your grace:

I crave your blessing.

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Humbly on my knee

Duch. God bless thee; and put meekness in thy breast,

Love, charity, obedience, and true duty!

Glo. Amen; and make me die a good old man!That is the butt-end of a mother's blessing; [Aside. I marvel that her grace did leave it out.

Buck. You cloudy princes, and heart sorrowing

peers,

That bear this mutual heavy load of moan,

Now cheer each other in each other's love:
Though we have spent our harvest of this king,
We are to reap the harvest of his son.

The broken rancour of your high-swoln hearts,
But lately splinted, knit, and join'd together,
Must gently be preserv'd, cherish'd, and kept:
Me seemeth good, that, with some little train,
Forthwith from Ludlow the young prince be fetch'd
Hither to London, to be crown'd our king.

Riv. Why with some little train, my lord of Buckingham?

Buck. Marry, my lord, lest, by a multitude, The new-heal'd wound of malice should break out; Which would be so much the more dangerous, By how much the estate is green, and yet ungo

vern'd:

Where every horse bears his commanding rein,
And may direct his course as please himself,
As well the fear of harm, as harm apparent,
In my opinion, ought to be prevented.

Glo. I hope, the king made peace with all of us; And the compáct is firm, and true, in me.

Riv. And so in me; and so, I think, in all :
Yet, since it is but green, it should be put
To no apparent likelihood of breach,

Which, haply, by much company might be urg'd:
Therefore I say, with noble Buckingham,

That it is meet so few should fetch the prince.
Hast. And so say I.

Glo. Then be it so; and go we to determine
Who they shall be that straight shall post to Ludlow.
Madam, and you my mother,—will you go
To give your censures in this weighty business?

-

[Exeunt all but BUCKINGHAM and GLOSTER. Buck. My lord, whoever journeys to the prince,, For heaven's sake, let not us two stay at home: For, by the way, I'll sort occasion,

Opinions.

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