DUCHESS. 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 you conclude, my grandam, he is dead.
The King mine uncle is to blame for it.
God will
revenge it; whom I will importune
With
earnest prayers all to that effect.
DAUGHTER. And so will I.
DUCHESS. 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 Gloucester
Told me the King, provok'd to it 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 a child.
DUCHESS. Ah, that
deceit should steal such gentle shape,
And with a
virtuous vizor 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?
DUCHESS. Ay, boy.
SON. I cannot think it. Hark! what noise is this?
Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH, with her hair about her
ears; RIVERS and DORSET after her
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 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.
DUCHESS. What means this scene of rude impatience?
QUEEN ELIZABETH. 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-winged souls may catch the King's,
Or like
obedient subjects follow him
To his new kingdom of ne'er-changing night.
DUCHESS. 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 with looking on his images;
But now two mirrors of his
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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;
But death hath snatch'd my husband from mine 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 moan-
To overgo thy woes and drown thy cries?
SON. Ah, aunt, you wept not for our father's death!
How can we aid you with our
kindred tears?
DAUGHTER. Our fatherless
distress was left unmoan'd;
Your widow-dolour
likewise be unwept!
QUEEN ELIZABETH. Give me no help in
lamentation;
I am not
barren to bring forth complaints.
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!
CHILDREN. Ah for our father, for our dear Lord Clarence!
DUCHESS. Alas for both, both mine, Edward and Clarence!
QUEEN ELIZABETH. What stay had I but Edward? and he's
gone.
CHILDREN. What stay had we but Clarence? and he's gone.
DUCHESS. What stays had I but they? and they are gone.
QUEEN ELIZABETH. Was never widow had so dear a loss.
CHILDREN. Were never orphans had so dear a loss.
DUCHESS. Was never mother had so dear a loss.
Alas, I am the mother of these griefs!
Their woes are parcell'd, mine is 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
lamentation.
DORSET. Comfort, dear mother. God is much displeas'd
That you take with unthankfulness his doing.
In common
worldly things 'tis 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.
RIVERS. 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 GLOUCESTER, BUCKINGHAM, DERBY,
HASTINGS, and RATCLIFF
GLOUCESTER. Sister, have comfort. All of us have cause
To wail the dimming of our shining star;
But none can help our 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.
DUCHESS. God bless thee; and put
meekness in thy breast,
Love,
charity,
obedience, and true duty!
GLOUCESTER. Amen! [Aside] 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.
BUCKINGHAM. You cloudy
princes and heart-sorrowing
peers,
That bear this heavy
mutual 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-swol'n hearts,
But
lately splinter'd, 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 fet
Hither to London, to be crown'd our King.
RIVERS. Why with some little train, my Lord of
Buckingham?
BUCKINGHAM. 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 un
govern'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.
GLOUCESTER. I hope the King made peace with all of us;
And the
compact is firm and true in me.
RIVERS. And so in me; and so, I think, in an.
Yet, since it is but green, it should be put
To no
apparentlikelihood 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.
HASTINGS. And so say I.
GLOUCESTER. Then be it so; and go we to determine
Who they shall be that straight shall post to Ludlow.
Madam, and you, my sister, will you go
To give your censures in this business?
Exeunt all but BUCKINGHAM and GLOUCESTER
BUCKINGHAM. My lord,
whoever journeys to the Prince,
For God sake, let not us two stay at home;
For by the way I'll sort occasion,
As index to the story we late talk'd of,
To part the Queen's proud
kindred from the Prince.
GLOUCESTER. My other self, my
counsel's consistory,
My
oracle, my
prophet, my dear cousin,
I, as a child, will go by thy direction.
Toward Ludlow then, for we'll not stay behind. Exeunt
ACT2|SC3
SCENE 3.
London. A street
Enter one CITIZEN at one door, and
another at the other
FIRST CITIZEN. Good
morrow, neighbour. Whither away so
fast?
SECOND CITIZEN. I promise you, I scarcely know myself.
Hear you the news abroad?
FIRST CITIZEN. Yes, that the King is dead.
SECOND CITIZEN. Ill news, by'r lady; seldom comes the
better.
I fear, I fear 'twill prove a giddy world.
Enter another CITIZEN
THIRD CITIZEN. Neighbours, God speed!
FIRST CITIZEN. Give you good
morrow, sir.
THIRD CITIZEN. Doth the news hold of good King Edward's
death?
SECOND CITIZEN. Ay, sir, it is too true; God help the while!
THIRD CITIZEN. Then, masters, look to see a troublous
world.
FIRST CITIZEN. No, no; by God's good grace, his son shall
reign.
THIRD CITIZEN. Woe to that land that's
govern'd by a child.
SECOND CITIZEN. In him there is a hope of
government,
Which, in his nonage, council under him,
And, in his full and ripened years, himself,
No doubt, shall then, and till then,
govern well.
FIRST CITIZEN. So stood the state when Henry the Sixth
Was crown'd in Paris but at nine months old.
THIRD CITIZEN. Stood the state so? No, no, good friends,
God wot;
For then this land was famously enrich'd
With
politic grave
counsel; then the King
Had
virtuous uncles to protect his Grace.
FIRST CITIZEN. Why, so hath this, both by his father and
mother.
THIRD CITIZEN. Better it were they all came by his father,
Or by his father there were none at all;
For emulation who shall now be nearest
Will touch us all too near, if God prevent not.
O, full of danger is the Duke of Gloucester!
And the Queen's sons and brothers haught and proud;
And were they to be rul'd, and not to rule,