ACT II. SCENE I. The COURT. Flourish. Enter King Edward fuck, the Queen, Dorfet, Rivers, Haftings, Catesby, Buckingham, and Wood vile. W K. EDWARD. HY fo; now have I done a good day's You Peers continue this united league: From my redeemer to a recall me hence. And to heav'n, Since I have made my friends at peace on earth; Riv. By heav'n, my foul is purg'd from grudging hate, And with my hand I feal my true heart's love. Haft. So thrive I, as I truly fwear the like. K. Edw. Take heed you dally not before your King, Left he that is the fupream King of Kings Confound your hidden falfhood, and award Either of you to be the other's end. Haft. So profper I, as I fwear perfect love. Riv. And I, as I love Haflings with my heart. K. Edw. Madam, your felf is not exempt from this; Nor your fon Dorfet, Buckingham nor you, You have been factious one against the other. Wife, love lord Haftings, let him kiss your hand, And what you do, do it unfeignedly. Queen Queen. There Haftings, I will never more remember Our former hatred, fo thrive I and mine. K. Edw. Dorfet, embrace him: Haftings, love lord Dor. This interchange of love, I here protest, Haft. And fo fwear I. K. Edw. Now Princely Buckingham, feal thou this, league With thy embracements to my wife's allies, And make me happy in your unity. Buck. When ever Buckingham doth turn his hate Upon your grace, and not with duteous love, [To the Queen. Doth cherish you and yours, God punish me [Embracing Rivers, c. K. Edw. A pleafing cordial, Princely Buckingham, Is this thy vow unto my fickly heart. There wanteth now our brother Glo'fter here, To make the bleffed period of this peace. Buck. And in good time, here comes the noble Duke. Enter Ratcliff and Gloucefter. 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: Brother, we have done deeds of charity, Made peace of enmity, fair love of hate, Between these fwelling wrong-incenfed Peers. By falle intelligence, or wrong farmife Hold Hold me a foe: if I unwittingly I hate it, and defire all good men's love. With whom my foul is any jot at odds, Queen. A holy-day fhall this be kept hereafter; Glo. Why, madam, have I offer'd love for this, To be fo flouted in this royal prefence? Who knows not that the gentle Duke is dead? [They all fart. You do him injury to feorn his coarse. K. Edw. Who knows not he is dead! who knows he is ? Queen. All-feeing heaven, what a world is this? Buck. Look I fo pale, lord Dorfet, as the rest? fence 1 But his red colour hath forfook 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 had the countermand, That came too lag, to fee him buried. God God grant, that fome lefs noble, and lefs loyal, Enter Earl of Derby. Derby. A boon, my Sov'raign, for my fervice done. K. Edw. I pr'ythee peace, my foul is full of forrow. Derby. I will not rife, unless your highness hear me. K. Edw. Then fay at once, what is it thou requeft'st. Derby. The forfeit, Sov'raign, of my fervant's life, Who flew 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 fhall that tongue give pardon to a flave? Nor Nor I, ungracious, fpake unto my self On me, and you; and mine, and yours, for this. not, How that the guilty kindred of the Queen Look'd pale, when they did hear of Clarence' death? God will revenge it. Come, lords will you go, [Exeunt. SCENE II.. Enter the Dutchess of York, with the two children of Son. Clarence. YOOD grandam tell us, is our father dead? G° Daugh. Why do you weep fo oft? and beat your breaft? And cry, O Clarence! my unhappy fon! Son. Why do you look on us, and shake your head, And call us orphans, wretches, caft-aways, If that our noble father be alive? Dutch. My pretty coufins, you mistake me both. I do lament the fickness of the King, As loth to lose him; not your father's death; It were loft forrow to wail one that's loft. Son. Then you conclude, my grandam, he is dead: The King mine uncle is to blame for this. God will revenge it, whom I will importune With daily earnest prayers. Daugh. And fo will I. Dutek.. |