The Same. A Room in the Palace. |
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Enter the DUCHESS OF YORK, with a Son and Daughter of CLARENCE. |
Boy. Good grandam, tell us, is our father dead? |
Duch. No, boy. |
Daugh. Why do you wring your hands, and beat your breast, |
And cry—'O Clarence, my unhappy son?' |
Boy. 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 much; |
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. |
Boy. Then, grandam, you conclude that 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. |
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. |
Boy. Grandam, we can; for my good uncle Gloucester |
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 shape, |
And with a virtuous vizard hide deep vice. |
He is my son, ay, and therein my shame, |
Yet from my dugs he drew not this deceit. |
Boy. Think you my uncle did dissemble, grandam? |
Duch. Ay, boy. |
Boy. I cannot think it. Hark! what noise is this? |
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Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH, distractedly; RIVERS and DORSET following her. |
Q. Eliz. Oh! 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 impatience? |
Q. Eliz. To make an act of tragic violence: |
Edward, my lord, thy son, our king, is dead! |
Why grow the branches now the root is wither'd? |
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 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 liv'd with 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 mine arms, |
And pluck'd two crutches from my feeble limbs, |
Clarence and Edward. O! what cause have I— |
Thine being but a moiety of my grief— |
To overgo thy plaints, and drown thy cries! |
Boy. 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. |
Q. Eliz. 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 wat'ry 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 he's gone. |
Chil. What stay had we but Clarence? and he's gone. |
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 lamentation. |
Dor. Comfort, dear mother: God is much displeas'd |
That you take with unthankfulness his doing. |
In common worldly things 'tis call'd 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 crown'd; in him your comfort lives. |
Drown desperate sorrow in dead Edward's grave, |
And plant your joys in living Edward's throne. |
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Enter GLOUCESTER, BUCKINGHAM, STANLEY, HASTINGS, RATCLIFF, and Others. |
Glo. Sister, have comfort: all of us have cause |
To wail the dimming of our shining star; |
But none can 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 mind, |
Love, charity, obedience, and true duty. |
Glo. 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. |
Buck 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-swoln 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 fetch'd |
Hither to London, to be crown'd our king. |
Riv. Why with some little train, my Lord of Buckingham? |
Buck. 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 ungovern'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. |
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 urg'd: |
Therefore I say with noble Buckingham, |
That it is meet so few should fetch the prince. |
Hast. 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 business? [Exeunt all except BUCKINGHAM and GLOUCESTER. |
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 talk'd 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. |
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