Glo. A blessed labour, my most sovereign liege. Among this princely heap, if any here, By false intelligence, or wrong surmise, 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 service:
Of you, my noble cousin Buckingham,
If ever any grudge were lodged between us :
Of you, Lord Rivers, and Lord Grey, of you,
That all without desert have frowned 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 this be kept hereafter:
I would to God all strifes were well compounded.
My sovereign lord, I do beseech your highness
To take your 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
knows he is?

Q. Eliz. All-seeing Heaven, what a world is this!
Buck. Look I so pale, Lord Dorset, as the rest?
Dor. Ay, my good lord; and no man in the

presence

But his red colour hath forsook his cheeks.

K. Edw. Is Clarence dead! the order was

reversed.

Glo. But he, poor man, by your first order died, And that a wingéd Mercury did bear: Some tardy cripple bore the countermand, That came too lag to see him buried.— God grant that some, less noble and less loyal, Nearer in bloody thoughts, and not in blood, Deserve not worse than wretched Clarence did, And yet go current from suspicion!

Enter STANLEY.

Stan. A boon, my sovereign, for my service done!

K. Edw. I pr'y thee, peace; my soul is full

of sorrow.

Stan. I will not rise unless your highness

hear me.

K. Edw. Then say at once what is it thou request'st.

Stan. The forfeit, sovereign, of my servant's life:

Who slew to-day a riotous gentleman,
Lately attendant on the Duke of Norfolk.

K. Edw. Have I a tongue to doom my brother's death,

And shall that tongue give pardon to a slave?
My brother killed no man, his fault was thought
And yet his punishment was bitter death.
Who sued to me for him? who, in my wrath,
Kneeled at my feet, and bade me be advised?
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 Tewkesbury,
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 plucked, 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 defaced
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.-
Come, Hastings, help me to my closet.
O, poor Clarence!

[Exeunt KING, QUEEN, HASTINGS, RIVERS,
DORSET and GREY.

Glo. This is the fruit of rashness! Marked you not

How that the guilty kindred of the Queen Looked 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?

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, castaways,
If that our noble father be alive?

Duch. My pretty cousins, you mistake me both :
I do lament the sickness of the King,
As loth 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:
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 caused your father's death.
Son. Grandam, we can: for my good uncle
Gloster

Told me the King, provoked to 't by the Queen,
Devised impeachments to imprison him.
And when my uncle told me so, he wept,
And pitied me, and kindly kissed 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.

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 im patience?

Q. Eliz. To make an act of tragic 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 sap? If you will live, lament; if die, be brief; That our swift-wingéd 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 lived by looking on his images:

But now two mirrors of his princely semblance
Are cracked 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 snatched my husband from my

arms,

And plucked 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 unmoaned :

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 governed 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!

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

Q. Eliz. What stay had I but Edward? and

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 parcelled, 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 distressed, Pour all your tears. I am your sorrow's nurse, And I will pamper it with lamentations.

Dor. Comfort, dear mother: God is much displeased

That you take with unthankfulness his doing.
In common worldly things, 't is called 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 crowned: 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, HAST INGS, RATCLIFF, and others.

Glo. Sister, have comfort: all of us have cause To wail the dimming of our shining star; But none cure their harms by wailing them.— Madam, my mother, I do cry you mercy,

I did not see your grace: humbly on my knee I crave your blessing.

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: I marvel that her grace did leave it out. [Aside. 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-swollen hearts,
But lately splinted, knit and joined together,
Must gently be preserved, cherished, and kept.
Me seemeth good that, with some little train,
Forthwith from Ludlow the young prince be

fetched

Hither to London, to be crowned our king.

Riv. Why with some little train my lord of

Buckingham?

Buck. Marry, iny lord, lest by a multitude The new-healed wound of malice should break out: Which would be so much the more dangerous By how much the estate is green and yet ungoverned.

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 compact 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 urged. Therefore I say, with noble Buckingham, That it is meet so few should fetch the prince.

Hust. 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 God's sake let not us two stay at home:
For by the way I'll sort occasion,

As index to the story we late talked of,
To part the queen's proud kindred from the prince.
Glo. My other self, my counsel's consistory,
My oracle, my prophet! My dear cousin,
I as a child will go by thy direction.
Towards Ludlow, then, for we 'll not stay behind.
[Exeunt.

SCENE III.-The same. A Street.

Enter two Citizens, meeting.

1st Cit. Good morrow, neighbour: whither away so fast?

2nd Cit. I promise you I scarcely know myself; Hear you the news abroad?

1st Cit. Yes; that the King's dead.

2nd Cit. Ill news, by 'r lady! seldom comes the

better.

I fear, I fear, 't will prove a giddy world.

Enter another Citizen. 3rd Cit. Neighbours, God speed! 1st Cit. Give you good morrow, sir. 3rd Cit. Doth the news hold of good King Edward's death?

2nd Cit. Ay, sir, it is too true: God help the while!

3rd Cit. Then, masters, look to see a troublous world.

1st Cit. No, no: by God's good grace his son shall reign.

3rd Cit. Woe to that land that's governed by a child!

2nd Cit. In him there is a hope of government; That in his nonage council under him, And in his full and ripened years himself, No doubt shall then and till then govern well.

1st Cit. So stood the state when Henry the sixth Was crowned in Paris but at nine months old. 3rd Cit. Stood the state so? no, no, good friends,

God wot:

For then this land was famously enriched With politic grave counsel: then the king Had virtuous uncles to protect his grace. 1st Cit. Why, so hath this, both by his father and mother.

3rd Cit. Better it were they all came by his

father,

Or by his father there were none at all: For emulation now who shall be nearest

Will touch us all too near, if God prevent not.
O full of danger is the Duke of Gloster,
And the Queen's sons and brothers haught and
proud:

And were they to be ruled, and not to rule,
This sickly land might solace as before.

1st Cit. Come, come, we fear the worst: all will be well.

3rd Cit. When clouds are seen wise men put

on their cloaks;

When great leaves fall then winter is at hand;
When the sun sets who doth not look for night?
Untimely storms make men expect a dearth.
All may be well: but if God sort it so,
"Tis more than we deserve, or I expect.

2nd Cit. Truly the hearts of men are full of fear: You cannot reason almost with a man That looks not heavily and full of dread.

3rd Cit. Before the days of change still is it so : By a divine instinct, men's minds mistrust Ensuing danger: as, by proof, we see The water swell before a boist'rous storm. But leave it all to God.-Whither away?

2nd Cit. Marry, we were sent for to the justices. 3rd Cit. And so was I: I'll bear you company. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV.-The same. A Room in the Palace. Enter the ARCHBISHOP OF YORK, the young DUKE OF YORK, QUEEN ELIZABETH, and the DUCHESS OF YORK.

Arch. Last night I hear they lay at Northamp

ton:

At Stony-Stratford will they be to-night.
To-morrow or next day they will be here.

Duch. I long with all my heart to see the prince: 1 hope he is much grown since last I saw him. Q. Eliz. But I hear no: they say my son of York

Hath almost overta'en him in his growth.

York. Ay, mother, but I would not have it so.
Duch. Why, my young cousin? it is good to grow.
York. Grandam, one night, as we did sit at
supper,

My uncle Rivers talked how I did grow
More than my brother: "Ay," quoth my uncle
Gloster,

"Small herbs have grace, great weeds do grow apace."

And, since, methinks I would not grow so fast, Because sweet flowers are slow, and weeds make haste.

Duch. 'Good faith, 'good faith, the saying did not hold

Mess. The sum of all I can, I have disclosed: Why or for what the nobles were committed Is all unknown to me, my gracious lady.

Q. Eliz. Ah me, I see the ruin of my house! The tiger now hath seized the gentle hind: Insulting tyranny begins to jut Upon the innocent and awless throne. Welcome destruction, blood, and massacre! I see as in a map the end of all.

Duch. Accursed and unquiet wrangling days, How many of you have mine eyes beheld! My husband lost his life to get the crown; And often up and down my sons were tost,