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Q. Mar. Foul shame upon you! you have all] mov'd mine.

Riv. Were you well serv'd, you would be taught your duty. (me duty, Q. Mar. To serve me well, you all should do Teach me to be your queen, and you mysubjects: O, serve mewell, and teach yourselves that duty. Dors. Dispute not with her, she is lunatick. Q. Mar. Peace, master marquis, you are malapert:

Your fire-new stamp of honour is scarce current:
O, that your young nobility could judge,
What 'twere to lose it, and be miserable!
They that stand high, have many blasts to shake

them:

And, if they fall, they dash themselves to pieces. Glo. Good counsel, marry ;-learn it, learn it, marquis.

Dors. It touches you, my lord, as much as me. Glo. Ay, and much more: But I was born so Our aiery buildeth in the cedar's top, [high, And dallies with the wind, and scorns the sun. Q. Mar. And turns the sun to shade!-alas! alas!

Witness my son, now in the shade of death;
Whose bright outshining beams thy cloudy
Hath in eternal darkness folded up. [wrath
Your aiery buildeth in our alery's nest-
O God, that seest it, do not suffer it;
As it was won with blood, lost be it so! [rity.
Buck. Peace, peace, for shame, if not for cha-
Q. Mar. Urge neither charity nor shame to me;
Uncharitably with me have you dealt,
And shamefully by you my hopes are butcher'd.
My charity is outrage, life my shame,-
And in my shame still live my sorrow's rage!
Buck. Have done, have done.
[hand,
Q. Mar. O princely Buckingham, I kiss thy
In sign of league and amity with thee:
Now fair befall thee, and thy noble house!
Thy garments are not spotted with our blood,
Nor thou within the compass of my curse.
Buck. Nor no one here; for curses never pass
The lips of those that breathe them in the air.
Q. Mar. I'll not believe but they ascend the sky,
And there awake God's gentle-sleeping peace.
O Buckingham, beware of yonder dog; [bites,
Look, when he fawns, he bites; and, when he
His venom tooth will rankle to the death:
Have not to do with him, beware of him;
Sin, death, and hell have set their marks on him;
And all their ministers attend on him. [ham?
Glo. What doth she say, my lord of Bucking-
Buck. Nothing that I respect, my gracious lord.
Q. Mar. What, dost thou scorn me for my
gentle counsel ?

And sooth the devil that I warn thee from?
O, but remember this another day,
When he shall split thy very heart with sorrow;
And say, poor Margaret was a prophetess.-
Live each of you the subjects to his hate,
And he to yours, and all of you to God's! [Exit.
Hast. My hair doth stand on end to hear her
[at liberty.
Riv. And so doth mine; I muse, why she's
Glo. I cannot blame her, byGod's holy mother,
She hath had too much wrong, and I repent
My part thereof, that I have done to her.

curses.

Q. Eliz. I never did her any, to my knowledge. Glo. Yet you have all thevantage of herwrong. I was too hot to do somebody good, That is too cold in thinking of it now. Marry, as for Clarence, he is well repaid: He is frank'd up to fatting for his pains;God pardon them that are the cause thereof!

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Cates. Madam, his majesty doth call for you,And for your grace, and you, my noble lords. Q. Eliz. Catesby, I come:--Lords, will you go with me?

Riv. Madam, we will attend your grace.

[Exeunt all but GLOSTER Glo. I do the wrong, and tirst begin to brawl. The secret mischiefs that I set abroach, I lay unto the grievous charge of others. Clarence,-whom I indeed have laid in darkness, I do beweep to many simple gulis; Namely, to Stanley, Hastings, Buckingham; And tell them 'tis the queen and her allies, That stir the king against the duke my brother. Now they believe it; and withai whet me To be reveng'd on Rivers, Vaughan, Grey: But then I sigh, and with a piece of scripture. Tell them--that God bids us do good for evil: And thus I clothe my naked villany With old odd ends, stol'n forth of holy writ: And seem a saint, when most I play the devil. Enter Two Murderers.

But soft, here come my executioners. How now, my hardy, stout resolved mates? Are you now going to despatch this thing? 1 Murd. We are, my lord, and come to have the warrant,

me:

That we may be admitted where he is.
Glo. Well thought upon, I have it here about
[Gives the Warrant.
When you have done, repair to Crosby-place.
But, sirs, be sudden in the execution,
Withal obdurate, do not hear him plead;
For Clarence is well spoken, and perhaps,
May move your hearts to pity, if you mark him.
1 Murd. Tut, tut, my lord, we will not stand to
Talkers are no good doers; be assur'd, [prate,
We go to use our hands, and not our tongues.

Glo. Your eyes drop millstones, when fools' eyes drop tears:

I like you, lads-about your business straight; Go, go, despatch. 1 Murd.

We will, my noble lord. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. London. A Room in the Tower,

Enter CLARENCE and BKAKENBURY. Brak. Why looks your grace so heavily to-day? Clar. O, I have pass'd a miserable night, So full of fearful dreams, of ugly sights, That, as I am a christian faithful man, I would not spend another such a night, Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days; So full of dismal terror was the time. Brak. What was your dream, my lord? I pray you, tell me. [Tower, Clar. Methought, that I had broken from the And was embark'd to cross to Burgundy; And, in my company, my brother Gloster; Who from my cabin tempted me to walk Upon the hatches; thence we look'd toward EngAnd cited up a thousand heavy times, During the wars of York and Lancaster, That had befall'n us. As we pac'd along Upon the giddy footing of the hatches. Methought, that Gloster tumbled; and in falling, Struck me, that thought to stay him, overboard, Into the tumbling billows of the main. O Lord! methought what pain it was to drown

[land,

What dreadful noise of water in mine ears:
What sights of ugly death within mine eyes!
Methought, I saw a thousand fearful wrecks;
A thousand men, that fishes gnaw'd upon;
Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl,
Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels,
All scatter'd in the bottom of the sea. [holes
Some lay in dead men's skulls; and, in those
Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept
(As 'twere in scorn of eyes) reflecting gems,
That woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep,
And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by.
Brak. Had you such leisure in the time of death,
To gaze upon these secrets of the deep?

Clar. Methought, I had; and often did I strive
To yield the ghost: but still the envious flood
Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth
To seek the empty, vast, and wand'ring air;
But smother'd it within my panting bulk,
Which almost burst to belch it in the sea.
Brak. Awak'd you not with this sore agony?
Clar. O, no; my dream was lengthen'd after
O, then began the tempest to my soul! [life;
I pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood,
With that grim ferryman which poets write of,
Unto the kingdom of perpetual night.
The first that there did greet my stranger soul,
Wasmygreat father-in-law, renowned Warwick,
Who cry'd aloud,-What scourge for perjury
Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence?
And so he vanish'd: Then came wand'ring by
A shadow like an angel, with bright hair
Dabbled in blood, and he shriek'd out aloud,-
Clarence is come, false, fleeting, perjur'd Clarence,
That stabb'd me in the field by Tewksbury;-
Seize on him, furies, take him to your torments!
With that, methought, a legion of foul fiends
Environ'd me, and howled in mine ears
Such hideous cries, that, with the very noise,
I trembling wak'd, and, for a season after
Could not believe but that I was in hell;
Such terrible impression made my dream.
Brak. No, marvel, lord, though it affrighted
I am afraid, methinks, to hear you tell it. [you:
Clar. O, Brakenbury, I have done these
things,-

That now give evidence against my soul,For Edward's sake; and, see, how he requites me!

O God! if my deep prayers cannot appease thee,
But thou wilt be avenged on my misdeeds,
Yet execute thy wrath on me alone:

Let him see our commission; talk no more. [A Paper is delivered to BRAKENBURY, who reads it.

Brak. I am, in this, commanded to deliver The noble duke of Clarence to your hands. I will not reason what is meant hereby, Because I will be guiltless of the meaning. Here are the keys;-there sits the duke asleep: I'll to the king; and signify to him, That thus I have resign'd to you my charge. 1 Murd. You may, sir; 'tis a point of wisdom. Fare you well. [Exit BRAKENBURY,

2 Murd. What, shall we stab him as he sleeps? 1 Murd. No; he'll say 'twas done cowardly, when he wakes.

2 Murd. When he wakes! why, fool, he shall never wake until the great judgment day. 1 Murd. Why, then he'll say, we stabb'd him sleeping.

2 Murd. The urging of that word, judgment, hath bred a kind of remorse in me. 1 Murd. What? art thou afraid?

2 Murd. Not to kill him, having a warrant for it; but to be damn'd for killing him, from the which no warrant can defend me.

1 Murd. I thought thou hadst been resolute. 2 Murd. So I am, to let him live.

1 Murd. I'll back to the duke of Gloster, and tell him so.

2 Murd. Nay, I pr'ythee, stay a little: I hope this holy humour of mine will change; it was wont to hold me but while one would tell twenty. 1 Murd. How dost thou feel thyself now? 2 Murd. 'Faith some certain dregs of conscience are yet within me.

1 Murd. Remember our reward, when the deed's done.

2 Murd. Come, he dies; I had forgot the reward.

1 Murd. Where's thy conscience now? 2 Murd. In the duke of Gloster's purse. 1 Murd. So, when he opens his purse to give us our reward, thy conscience flies out. 2 Murd. 'Tis no matter; let it go; there's few, or none, will entertain it.

1 Murd. What, if it come to thee again? 2 Murd. I'll not meddle with it, it is a dangerous thing, it makes a man a coward; a man cannot steal, but it accuseth him; a man cannot swear, but it checks him; a man cannot lie with his neighbour's wife, but it detects him: 'Tis a blushing shame-faced spirit, that mutinies in a man's bosom; it fills one full of obstacles; it

O, spare my guiltless wife, and my poor chil-
I pray thee, gentle keeper, stay by me; [dren!-made me once restore a purse of gold, that by
My soul is heavy, and I fain would sleep.
Brak. I will, my lord; God give your grace
good rest!-

[CLARENCE reposes himself on a chair. Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours, Makes the night morning, and the noon-tide night.

Princes have but their titles for their glories,
An outward honour for an inward toil;
And, for unfelt imaginations,

They often feel a world of restless cares:
So that, between their titles, and low name,
There's nothing differs but the outward fame.
Enter the Two Murderers.

1 Murd. Ho! who's here?
Brak. What would'st thou, fellow? and how
cam'st thou hither?

Murd. I would speak with Clarence, and I came hither on my legs. Drak. What, so brief?

[dious:

2 Mard. O, sir, 'tis better to be brief than te-]

chance I found: it beggars any man that keeps it: it is turned out of all towns and cities for a dangerous thing; and every man that means to live well, endeavours to trust to himself, and live without it.

1 Murd. 'Zounds, it is even now at my elbow, persuading me not to kill the duke.

2 Murd. Take the devil in thy mind, and believe him not: he would insinuate with thee, but to make thee sigh. [vail with me.

1 Murd. I am strong-fram'd, he cannot pre2 Murd. Spoke like a tall fellow, that respects his reputation. Come, shall we fall to work?

1 Murd. Take him over the costard with the hilts of thy sword, and then throw him into the malmsey butt, in the next room. [of him.

2 Murd. O excellent device! and make a sop 1 Murd. Soft! he wakes.

2 Murd. Strike.

1 Murd. No, we'll reason with him. [of wine. Clar. Where art thou, keeper? give me a cup

1 Murd. You shall have wine enongh, my lord,
Clar. In God's name, what art thou? [anon.
1 Murd. A man, as you are.
Clar. But not, as I am, royal.
1 Murd. Nor you, as we are, loyal.

Clar. Thy voice is thunder, but thy looks are
humble.

1 Murd. My voice is now the King's, my looks mine own. [speak! Clar. How darkly, and how deadly dost thou Your eyes do menace me: Why look you pale? Who sent you hither? Wherefore do you come? Both Murd. To, to, to,Clar. To murder me? Both Murd. Ay, ay.

[me so.
Clar. You scarcely have the hearts to tell
And therefore cannot have the hearts to do it.
Wherein, my friends, have I offended you?
1 Murd. Offended us you have not, but the king.
Clar. I shall be reconciled to him again.
2 Murd. Never, my lord; therefore prepare
to die.
[of men,
Clar. Are you call'd forth from out a world
To slay the innocent? What is my offence?
Where is the evidence that doth accuse me?
What lawful quest have given their verdict up
Unto the frowning judge? or who pronounc'd'
The bitter sentence of poor Clarence' death?
Before I be convict by course of law,

To threaten me with death is most unlawful.
1 charge you, as you hope to have redemption
By Christ's dear blood, shed for our grievous sins,
That you depart, and lay no hands on me;
The deed you undertake is damnable.

1 Murd. What we will do, we do upon com-
mand.
[king.
2 Murd. And he, that hath commanded, is our
Clar. Erroneous vassal! the great king of kings
Hath in the table of his law commanded,
That thou shalt do no murder; Wilt thou then
Spurn at his edict, and fulfil a man's?
Take heed; for he holds vengeance in his hand,
To hurl upon their heads that break his law.
2 Murd. And that same vengeance doth he
hurl on thee,

For false forswearing, and for murder too:
Thou didst receive the sacrament, to fight
In quarrel of the house of Lancaster,

1 Murd. And, like a traitor to the name of God, Didst break that vow; and, with thy treacherous blade,

Unrip'dst the bowels of thy sovereign's son.
2 Murd. Whom thou wast sworn to cherish
and defend.

1 Murd. How canst thou urge God's dreadful
law to us,

When thou hast broke it in such dear degree?
Clar. Alas! for whose sake did I that ill deed?
For Edward, for my brother, for his sake:
He sends you not to murder me for this;
For in that sin he is as deep as I.
If God will be avenged for the deed,
O, know you, that he doth it publickly;
Take not the quarrel from his powerful arm;
He needs no indirect nor lawless course,
To cut off those that have offended him.

1 Murd. Who made thee then a bloody mi-
nister,

When gallant springing, brave Plantagenet,
That princely novice, was struck dead by thee?
Clar. My brother's love, the devil, and my
rage.

1 Murd. Thy brother's love, our duty, and
thy fault,

Provoke us hither now to slaughter thee.

Clar. If you do love my brother, hate not mei
I am his brother, and I love him well.
If you are hired for meed, go back again,
And I will send you to my brother Gloster;
Who shall reward you better for my life,
Than Edward will for tidings of my death."
2 Murd. You are deceiv'd, your brother Glos-
ter hates you.

Clar. O, no; he loves me, and he holds me dear:
Go you to him from nie.
Both Murd.

Ay, so we will.

Clar. Tell him, when that our princely father

York

Bless'd his three sons with his victorious arm,
And charg'd us from his soul to love each other,
He little thought of this divided friendship:
Bid Gloster think on this, and he will weep.
1 Murd. Ay, millstones; as he lesson'd us to

weep.

Clar. O, do not slander him, for he is kind.
1 Murd. Right, as snow in harvest.-Come,
you deceive yourself;

'Tis he that sends us to destroy you here,

Clar. It cannot be; for he bewept my fortune, And hugg'd me in his arms, and swore,with sobs, That he would labour my delivery.

1 Murd. Why, so he doth, when he delivers you From this earth's thraldom to the joys of heaven. 2 Murd. Make peace with God, for you must

die, my lord.

Clar. Hast thou that holy feeling in thy soul,
To counsel me to make my peace with God,
And art thou yet to thy own soul so blind,
That thou wilt war with God, by murd'ring
me?-

Ah, sirs, consider, he, that set you on
To do this deed, will hate you for the deed.
2 Murd. What shall we do?
Clar.

Relent, and save your souls. 1 Murd. Relent! 'tis cowardly, and womanish. Clar. Not to relent, is beastly, savage, devilish.

Which of you, if you were a prince's son,
Being pent from liberty, as I am now,
If two such murderers as yourselves came to
Would not entreat for life?
[you,-

My friend, I spy some pity in thy looks;
O, if thine eye be not a flatterer,
Come thou on my side, and entreat for me,
As you would beg, were you in my distress.
A begging prince, what beggar pities not?
2 Murd. Look behind you, my lord.

1 Murd. Take that, and that; if all this will
not do,
Stabs him.

I'll drown you in the malmsey butt within.
[Exit, with the body.

2 Murd. A bloody deed, and desperately de-
spatch'd!

How fain, like Pilate, would I wash my hands
Of this most grievous guilty murder done!

Re-enter first Murderer.

1 Murd. How now? what mean'st thou, that
thou help'st me not?

By heaven, the duke shall know how slack you
have been.
[his brother

2 Murd. I would he knew, that I had saved
Take thou the fee, and tell him what I say;
For I repent me that the duke is slain. [Exit.
1 Murd. So do not I; go, coward, as thou art.-
Well, I'll go hide the body in some hole,
Till that the duke give order for his burial:
And when I have my meed, I will away;
For this will out, and then I must not stay.

[Exit.

Act Second.

SCENE I. London. A Room in the Palace. Enter KING EDWARD (led in sick), QUEEN ELIZABETH, DORSET, RIVERS, HASTINGS, BUCKINGHAM, GREY, and Others.

K. Edw. Why, so:-now have I done a good
day's work;

You peers, continue this united league:
I every day expect an embassage
From my Redeemer to redeem me hence;
And now in peace my soul shall part to heaven,
Since I have made my friends at peace on earth.
Rivers, and Hastings, take each other's hand;
Dissemble not your hatred, swear your love.
Riv. By heaven, my soul is purg'd from
grudging hate;

And with my hand I seal my true heart's love.
Hast. So thrive I, as I truly swear the like!
K. Edw. Take heed, you dally not before your
king;

Lest he, that is the supreme King of kings,
Confound your hidden falsehood, and award
Either of you to be the other's end.

Hast. So prosper I, as I swear perfect love!
Riv. And I, as I love Hastings with my heart!
K. Edw. Madam, yourself are not exempt in
this,--

Nor your son Dorset,-Buckingham, nor you;You have been factious one against the other. Wife, love Lord Hastings, let him kiss your And what you do, do it unfeignedly. [hand; Q. Eliz. There, Hastings;-I will never more remember

Our former hatred, so thrive I, and mine!

K. Edio. Dorset, embrace him,-Hastings, love lord marquis.

Dor. This interchange of love, I here protest, Upon my part shall be inviolable.

Hast. And so swear I. [Embraces DORSET. K. Edw. Now, princely Buckingham, seal thou this league

With thy embracements to my wife's allies,
And make me happy in your unity.

hate

Back. Whenever Buckingham doth turn his
[duteous love
Upon your grace [To the Queen], but with all
Doth cherish you, and yours, God punish me
With hate in those where I expect most love!
When I have most need to employ a friend,
And most assured that he is a friend,
Deep, hollow, treacherous, and full of guile,
Be he unto me! this do I beg of heaven,
When I am cold in love, to you, or yours.
[Embracing RIVERS, &c.
K. Edw. A pleasing cordial, princely Buck-
ingham,

Is this thy vow unto my sickly heart?
There wanteth now our brother Gloster here,
To make the blessed period of this peace.
Buck. And, in good time, here comes the

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Hold me a foe;

If I unwittingly, or in my rage,
Have aught committed that is hardly borne
By any in this presence, I desire
To reconcile me to his friendly peace:
'Tis death to me, to be at enmity;

I hate it, and desire all good men's love.-
First, madam, I entreat true peace of you,
Which I will purchase with my duteous ser-
Of you, my noble cousin Buckingham, [vice:-
If ever any grudge were lodg'd between us:-
Of you, Lord Rivers,-and Lord Grey, of you,→→
That all without desert have frown'd on me;-
Dukes, earls, lords, gentlemen: indeed, of all.
I do not know that Englishman alive,
With whom my soul is any jot at odds,
More than the infant that is born to-night;
I thank my God for my humility.

Q. Eliz. A holy-day shall thus be kept here-
after:-
[pounded.-

I would to God, all strifes were well comMy sovereign lord, I do beseech your highness To take our brother Clarence to your grace.

Glo. Why, madam, have I offered love for this,
To be so flouted in this royal presence?
Who knows not that the gentle duke is dead?
[They all start.

You do him injury to scorn his corse.
K. Edw. Who knows not he is dead! who

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Stan. A boon, my sovereign, for my service done! [sorrow. K. Edw. I pr'ythee, peace; my soul is full of Stan. I will not rise, unless your highness [request'st.

hear me.

K. Edu. Then say at once, what is it thou Stan. The forfeit, sovereign, of my servant's Who slew to-day a riotous gentleman, [life Lately attendant on the duke of Norfolk.

K. Edo. Have I a tongue to dooin my brother's death,

And shall that tongue give pardon to a slave.
My brother kill'd no man, his fault was thought,
And yet his punishment was bitter death."
Who sued to me for him? who, in my wrath,
Kneel'd at my feet, and bade me be advis'd?
Who spoke of brotherhood? who spoke of love?
Who told me how the poor soul did forsake
The mighty Warwick, and did fight for me?
Who told me, in the field at Tewksbury,
When Oxford had me down, he rescued me,
And said, Dear brother, live, and be a king?
Who told me, when we both lay in the field,
Frozen almost to death, how he did lap me
Even in his garments; and did give himself
All thin and naked, to the numb-cold night?
All this from my remembrance brutish wrath
Sinfully pluck'd, and not a man of you
Had so much grace to put it in my mind.

But when your carters, or your waiting-vassals,
Have done a drunken slaughter, and defac'd
The precious image of our dear Redeemer,
You straight are on your knees for pardon,
pardon;

And I, unjustly too, must grant it you :-
But for my brother, not a man would speak,-
Nor I (ungracious) speak unto myself
For him, poor soul.-The proudest of you all
Have been beholden to him in his life;
Yet none of you would once plead for his life.-
O God! I fear, thy justice will take hold
On me, and you, and mine, and yours for this.-I
Come, Hastings, help me to my closet. 0,
Poor Clarence!

[Exeunt King, Queen, HASTINGS, RIVERS,
DORSET, and GREY.

Glo. This is the fruit of rashness!-Mark'd
you not,

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:
God will revenge it. Come, lords; will you go,
To comfort Edward with our company?
Buck. We wait upon your grace.

SCENE II. The same.

[Exeunt.

Enter the DUCHESS OF YORK, with a Son and
Daughter of Clarence.

Son. Good grandam, tell us, is our father dead?
Duch. No, boy.
[your breast;
Daugh. Why do you weep so oft? and beat
And cry-O Clarence, my unhappy son! [head,
Son. Why do you look on us and shake your
And call ns-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!
The king my uncle is to blame for this: [dead.
God will revenge it; whom I will importune
With earnest prayers all to that effect,

Daugh. And so will I.

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

Incapable and shallow innocents,
You cannot guess who caus'd your father's death.
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 dugs he drew not this deceit.
Son. Think you, my uncle did dissemble,
grandam?

Duch. Ay, boy.

[this? Son. I cannot think it. Hark! what noise is 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.

513

Duch. What means this scene of rude impatience?

[row,

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?
Whywither not the leaves, that want their sap?-
If you will live, lament; if die, be brief;
Thatourswift-winged souls maycatch 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 sor-
As I had title in thy noble husband!
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,
And hast the comfort of thy children left thee:
But death hath snatch'd my 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 overgo 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!

I

Q. Eliz. Give me no help in lamentation,
am not barren to bring forth laments:
All springs reduce their currents to mine eyes,
That I, being govern'd by the watery 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!

[Clarence!
Duch. Alas, for both, both mine, Edward and
Q. Eliz. What stay had I, but Edward? and
he's gone.
[he's gone.

Chil. What stay had we, but Clarence? and
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;
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-ungrate
ful,

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 mo-
ther,
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

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