London. A Room in the Palace. |
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Enter KING EDWARD 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 more 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 you, son Dorset, Buckingham, nor you; |
You have been factious one against the other. |
Wife, love Lord Hastings, let him kiss your hand; |
And what you do, do it unfeignedly |
Q. Eliz. There, Hastings; I will never more remember |
Our former hatred, so thrive I and mine! |
K. Edw. Dorset, embrace him; Hastings, love lord marquess. |
Dor. This interchange of love, I here protest, |
Upon my part shall be inviolable. |
Hast. And so swear I. [They embrace. |
K. Edw. Now, princely Buckingham, seal thou this league |
With thy embracements to my wife's allies, |
And make me happy in your unity. |
Buck. [To the QUEEN.] Whenever Buckingham doth turn his hate |
Upon your Grace, but with all duteous love |
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 God, |
When I am cold in love to you or yours. [They embrace. |
K. Edw. A pleasing cordial, princely Buckingham, |
Is this thy vow unto my sickly heart. |
There wanteth now our brother Gloucester here |
To make the blessed period of this peace. |
Buck. And, in good time, here comes the noble duke. |
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Enter GLOUCESTER. |
Glo. Good morrow to my sovereign king and queen; |
And princely peers, a happy time of day! |
K. Edw. Happy, indeed, as we have spent the day. |
Gloucester, we have done deeds of charity; |
Made peace of enmity, fair love of hate, |
Between these swelling wrong-incensed peers. |
Glo. A blessed labour, my most sovereign lord. |
Among this princely heap, if any here, |
By false intelligence, or wrong surmise, |
Hold me a foe; |
If I un wittingly, 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 lodg'd between us; |
Of you, Lord Rivers, and Lord Grey, of you, |
That all without desert have frown'd on me; |
Of you, Lord Woodvile, and Lord Scales, of you; |
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 sov'reign lord, I do beseech your highness |
To take our brother Clarence to your grace. |
Glo. Why, madam, have I offer'd 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 revers'd. |
Glo. But he, poor man, by your first order died, |
And that a winged 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. |
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Enter STANLEY. |
Stan. A boon, my sov'reign, for my service done! |
K. Edw. I prithee, 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 kill'd no man, his fault was thought; |
And yet his punishment was bitter death. |
Who su'd 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 rescu'd 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 beholding to him in his life, |
Yet none of you would once beg 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 EDWARD, 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. [Exeunt. |
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