London. A Room in the Palace. |
| |
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. |
| |
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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