Stan. I will not rise, unless your highness hear me. K. Edw. Then say at once, what is it thou re quest'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? You straight are on your knees for pardon, pardon; And I, unjustly too, must grant it you:- For him, poor soul.-The proudest of you all Yet none of you would once plead for his life.- [Exeunt King, Queen, Hastings, Rivers, Dorset, 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. SCENE II. THE SAME. Enter the Dutchess of York, with a son and daughter of Clarence. Son. Good grandam, tell us, is our father dead? Dutch. No, boy. Daugh. Why do you weep so oft? and beat breast; And cry-O Clarence, my unhappy son! your Son. Why do you look on us, and shake your head, And call us-orphans, wretches, cast-aways, Dutch. 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; Son. Then, grandam, you conclude that he is dead. The king my uncle is to blame for this: God will revenge it; whom I will importune Daugh. And so will I. Dutch. Peace, children, peace! the king doth Incapable and shallow innocents, You cannot guess who caus'd your father's death.. Son. Grandam, we can: for my good uncle Glo'ster Told me, the king, provok'd to't by the queen, And he would love me dearly as his child. Dutch. Ah, that deceit should steal such gentle shapes, And with a virtuous visor hide deep vice! E 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? Dutch. Ay, boy. Son. I cannot think it. Hark! what noise is this? Enter Queen Elizabeth, distractedly; Rivers, and Q. Eliz. Ah! who shall hinder me to wail and weep? To chide my fortune, and torment myself? Dutch. What means this scene of rude impa- Q. Eliz. To make an act of tragick violence:- To his new kingdom of perpetual rest. Dutch. Ah, so much interest have I in thy sor row, As I had title in thy noble husband! I have bewept a worthy husband's death, But now, two mirrors of his princely semblance And I for comfort have but one false glass, 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 grief,) To over-go thy plaints, and drown thy cries? Son. 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 laments: 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! Dutch. 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. Dutch. What stays had I, but they? and they are gone. Q. Eliz. Was never widow, had so dear a loss. |