1 Murd. Right, as snow in harvest.-Come, you | As you would beg, were you in my distress. deceive yourself;
"Tis he that sends us to destroy you here.
Clar. It cannot be; for he bewept my fortune, And hugged me in his arms, and swore, with sobs, That he would labor my delivery.
1 Murd. Why so he doth, when he delivers you From this earth's thraldom to the joys of heaven. 2 Murd. Make peace with God, for you must die, my lord.
Clar. Hast thou that holy feeling in thy soul,
To counsel me to make my peace with God,
And art thou yet to thy own soul so blind,
That thou wilt war with God, by murd'ring me?
Ah, sirs, consider, he that set you on
To do this deed, will hate you for the deed.
2 Murd. What shall we do?
Clar.
Relent, and save your souls.
1 Murd. Relent! 'tis cowardly, and womanish.
Clar. Not to relent, is beastly, savage, devilish.
Which of you, if you were a prince's son,
Being pent from liberty, as I am now,—
If two such murderers as yourselves came to you,-
Would not entreat for life?-
My friend, I spy some pity in thy looks;
O, if thine eye be not a flatterer,
Come thou on my side, and entreat for me,
SCENE I.-A Room in the Palace.
A begging prince what beggar pities not?
2 Murd. Look behind you, my lord.
1 Murd. How now? what mean'st thou, that thou help'st me not?
By heaven, the duke shall know how slack you have been.
2 Murd. I would he knew, that I had sav'd his
brother!
Take thou the fee, and tell him what I say;
For I repent me that the duke is slain. [Exit.
1 Murd. So do not I: go, coward, as thou art.—
| Well, I'll go hide the body in some hole,
Till that the duke give order for his burial:
And when I have my meed, I will away;
For this will out, and then I must not stay.
Enter KING EDWARD, (led in sick,) QUEEN ELIZA-
BETH, DORSET, RIVERS, HASTINGS, BUCKING-
HAM, GREY, and others.
With thy embracements to my wife's allies,
And make me happy in your unity.
Buck. Whenever Buckingham doth turn his hate Upon your grace, [To the QUEEN.] but with all
K. Edw. Why, so:-now have I done a good Doth cherish you, and yours, God punish me
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 purged 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,yourselfare not exempt in this,-
Nor your 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!
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 heaven,
When I am cold in love to you or yours.
[Embracing RIVERS, &c. K. Edw. A pleasing cordial, princely Buckingham,
Is this thy vow unto my sickly heart.
There wanteth now our brother Gloster here,
To make the blessed period of this peace.
Buck. And, in good time, here comes the noble
duke.
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 swelling wrong-incensed peers.
Glo. A blessed labor, my most sovereign liege.-
Among this princely heap, if any here,
By false intelligence, or wrong surmise,
Hold me a foe;
K. Edw. Dorset, embrace him,-Hastings, love If I unwittingly, or in my rage,
Dor. This interchange of love, I here protest,
Upon my part shall be inviolable.
Hast. And so swear I.
[Embraces DORSET. K. Edw. Now princely Buckingham, seal thou this league,
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 ;-
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 here-
after.
I would to God, all strifes were well compounded.My sovereign 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 pre
![[blocks in formation]](https://books.google.com.ag/books/content?id=o_0jAAAAMAAJ&hl=de&output=html_text&pg=PA546&img=1&zoom=3&q=prince&cds=1&sig=ACfU3U0E4DvRjTjESE4_3WGLegVpt5r4gg&edge=0&edge=stretch&ci=104,575,444,473)
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 sued to me for him? who, in my wrath,
Kneel'd at my feet, and bade me be advised?
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 of Tewksbury,
When Oxford had me down, he rescued 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 defaced
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 beholden to him in his life;
Yet none of you would once plead 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, QUEEN, HASTINGS, RIVERS,
DORSET, and GREY.
Glo. This is the fruit of rashness!-Mark'd you
![[blocks in formation]](https://books.google.com.ag/books/content?id=o_0jAAAAMAAJ&hl=de&output=html_text&pg=PA546&img=1&zoom=3&q=prince&cds=1&sig=ACfU3U0E4DvRjTjESE4_3WGLegVpt5r4gg&edge=0&edge=stretch&ci=536,327,412,178)
Enter the DUCHESS OF YORK, with a Son and Daughter of CLARENCE.
Son. Good grandam, tell us, is our father dead? Duch. No, boy.
Daugh. Why do you weep so oft? and beat your breast;
And cry-O Clarence, my unhappy son!
Son. Why do you look on us, and shake your head, And call us-orphans, wretches, cast-aways, If that our noble father be alive?
Duch. 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; It were lost sorrow, to wail one that's lost. 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 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.
Told me, the king, provok'd to't by the queen,
Son. Grandam, we can; for my good uncle Gloster
Devised 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
shapes,
And with a virtuous visor hide deep vice!
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?
Son. I cannot think it. Hark! what noise is this? Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH, distractedly; RIVERS and DORSET, following her.
Q. Eliz. Ah! 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, when the root is gone?
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 by 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 my 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-dolor 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 Cla-
rence!
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 lamentations.
Dor. Comfort, dear mother; God is much dis-
pleas'd,
That you take with unthankfulness his doing;
In common worldly things, 'tis called—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.
Enter GLOSTER, BUCKINGHAM, STANLEY, HAST-
INGS, 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
breast,
Love, charity, obedience, and true duty!
Glo. Amen; and make me die a good old man!-
That is the butt-end of a mother's blessing; [Aside.
I marvel that her grace did leave it out.
Buck. You cloudy princes, and heart-sorrowing
peers,
That bear this mutual heavy 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 rancor of your high-swoln hearts,
But lately splinted, 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 ungo-
vern'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 urged:
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 weighty business?
[Exeunt all but BUCKINGHAM and GLOSTER.
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.
SCENE III-A Street.
Enter two Citizens, meeting.
1 Cit. Good-morrow, neighbor: Whither away so fast?
2 Cit. I promise you, I scarcely know myself: Hear you the news abroad?
Yes; the king's dead.
2 Cit. Ill news, by'r lady; seldom comes the better:
I fear, I fear, 'twill prove a giddy world.
Enter another Citizen.
3 Cit. Neighbors, God speed!
1 Cit.
Give you good-morrow, sir. 3 Cit. Doth the news hold of good king Edward's death?
2 Cit. Ay, sir, it is too true; God help the while!
i. e. Preparatory.
"Opinions.
3 Cit. Then, masters, look to see a troublous world. | 1 Cit. No, no; by God's good grace, his son shall reign.
3 Cit.Woe to that land, that's govern'd by a child! 2 Cit. In him there is a hope of government; That in this nonage,' council under him, And, in his full and ripen'd years, himself, No doubt, shall then, and till then, govern well. 1 Cit. So stood the state, when Henry the Sixth Was crown'd in Paris but at nine months old.
3 Cit. Stood the state so? no, no, good friends,
God wot;
For then this land was famously enrich'd
With politic grave counsel; then the king
Had virtuous uncles to protect his grace.
1 Cit. Why, so hath this, both by his father and
mother.
3 Cit. Better it were they all came by his father;
Or, by his father, there were none at all:
For emulation now, who shall be nearest,
Will touch us all too near, if God prevent not.
O, full of danger is the duke of Gloster;
And the queen's sons, and brothers, haught and
proud:
And were they to be rul'd, and not to rule,
This sickly land might solace as before.
1 Cit. Come, come, we fear the worst; all will be
well.
3 Cit. When clouds are seen, wise men put on
their cloaks;
When great leaves fall, then winter is at hand;
When the sun sets, who doth not look for night?
Untimely storms make men expect a dearth:
All may be well; but, if God sort it so,
"Tis more than we deserve, or I expect.
2 Cit. Truly, the hearts of men are full of fear:
You cannot reason" almost with a man
That looks not heavily, and full of dread.
3 Cit. Before the days of change, still is it so:
By a divine instinct, men's minds mistrust
Ensuing danger; as, by proof, we see
The water swell before a boist'rous storm.
But leave it all to God. Whither away?
2 Cit. Marry, we were sent for to the justices.
3 Cit. And so was I; I'll bear you company.
Arch. Last night, I heard, they lay at Stony-
Stratford;
And at Northampton they do rest to-night:
To-morrow, or next day, they will be here.
Duch. I long with all my heart to see the prince;
I hope, he is much grown since last I saw him.
Q. Eliz. But I hear no; they say my son of York
Hath almost overta'en him in his growth.
York. Ay, mother, but I would not have it so.
Duch. Why, my good cousin? it is good to grow.
York. Grandam, one night, as we did sit at supper,
My uncle Rivers talk'd how I did grow
More than my brother; Ay, quoth my uncle Gloster,
Small herbs have grace, great weeds do grow apace:
And since, methinks, I would not grow so fast,
Because sweet flowers are slow, and weeds make
haste.
Duch. 'Good faith, 'good faith, the saying did
not hold
In him that did object the same to thee:
€ Converse.
He was the wretched'st thing, when he was young,
So long a growing, and so leisurely,
That, if his rule were true, he should be gracious.
Arch. And so, no doubt, he is, my gracious madam.
Duch. I hope, he is; but yet let mothers doubt.
York. Now,by my troth, if I had been remember'd,
I could have given my uncle's grace a flout.
To touch his growth, nearer than he touch'd mine.
Duch. How, my young York? I pr'ythee, let me
York. Marry, they say my uncle grew so fast,
That he could gnaw a crust at two hours old;
'Twas full two years ere I could get a tooth.
Grandam, this would have been a biting jest.
Duch. I pr'y thee, pretty York, who told you this?
York. Grandam, his nurse.
Duch. His nurse? why, she was dead ere thou
wast born.
York. If 'twere not she. I cannot tell who told me.
Q. Eliz. A parlous boy: Go to, you are too shrewd.
Arch. Good madam, be not angry with the child.
Q. Eliz. Pitchers have ears.
Mess. Well, madam, and in health.
Mess. Lord Rivers, and lord Grey, are sent to
For what offence? Mess. The sum of all I can, I have disclos'd; Why, or for what, the nobles were committed, Is all unknown to me, my gracious lady.
Q. Eliz. Ah me, I see the ruin of my house!
The tiger now hath seized the gentle hind:
Insulting tyranny begins to jut
Upon the innocent and awless throne:--
Welcome destruction, blood, and massacre!
see, as in a map, the end of all.
Duch. Accursed and unquiet, wrangling days!
How many of you have mine eyes behield?
My husband lost his life to get the crown;
And often up and down my sons were tost,
For me to joy and weep, their gain and loss:
And being seated, and domestic broils
Clean over-blown, themselves, the conquerors,
Make war upon themselves; brother to brother,
Blood to blood, self 'gainst self:-0, preposterous
And frantic courage, end thy damned spleen!
Or let me die, to look on death no more!
Q. Eliz. Come, come, my boy, we will to sanc-
tuary.-
Madam, farewell.
Duch.
Stay, I will go with you
Q. Eliz. You have no cause.
Arch.
My gracious lady, go,
[To the QUEEN.
And thither bear your treasure and your goods.
For my part, I'll resign unto your grace
The seal I keep; And so betide to me,
As well I tender you, and all of yours!
Come, I'll conduct you to the sanctuary.
Buck. Welcome, sweet prince, to London, to your chamber.
Glo. Welcome, dear cousin, my thoughts' sovereign:
The weary way hath made you melancholy.
Prince. No, uncle; but our crosses on the way Have made it tedious, wearisome, and heavy: I want more uncles here to welcome me.
Glo. Sweet prince, the untainted virtue of your
years
Hath not yet div'd into the world's deceit :
No more can you distinguish of a man,
Than of his outward show; which, God he knows,
Seldom, or never, jumpeth with the heart.
Those uncles, which you want, were dangerous;
Your grace attended to their sugar'd words,
But look'd not on the poison of their hearts:
God keep you from them, and from such false
Prince. God keep me from false friends! but they were none.
Glo. My lord, the mayor of London comes to greet you.
Enter the Lord Mayor and his Train. May. God bless your grace with health and happy days!
Prince. I thank you, good my lord,-and thank you all. [Exeunt Mayor, &c. I thought my mother, and my brother York, Would long ere this have met us on the way: Fye, what a slug is Hastings! that he comes not To tell us, whether they will come, or no.
Buck. And in good time, here comes the sweating lord.
Prince. Welcome, my lord; What, will our mother come?
Hast. On what occasion, God he knows, not I, The queen your mother, and your brother York, Have taken sanctuary: The tender prince Would fain have come with me to meet your
But by his mother was perforce withheld.
Buck. Fye! what an indirect and peevish course
Is this of hers?-Lord cardinal, will your grace
Persuade the queen to send the duke of York,
Unto his princely brother presently?
If she deny,-lord Hastings, go with him,
And from her jealous arms pluck him perforce.
Card. My lord of Buckingham, if my weak
oratory
Can from his mother win the duke of York,
Anon expect him here; But if she be obdurate
To mild entreaties, God in heaven forbid
We should infringe the holy privilege
Of blessed sanctuary! not for all this land,
Would I be guilty of so deep a sin.
Buck. You are too senseless-obstinate, my lord,
Too ceremonious, and traditional :
Weigh it but with the grossness of this age,
You break not sanctuary in seizing him.
The benefit thereof is always granted
To those whose dealings have deserv'd the place,
And those who have the wit to claim the place:
And therefore, in mine opinion, cannot have it:
This prince hath neither claim'd it, nor deserv'd it,
Then, taking him from thence, that is not there,
You break no privilege nor charter there.
Oft have I heard of sanctuary men;
But sanctuary children, ne'er till now.
Card. My lord, you shall o'er-rule my mind for
Come on, lord Hastings, will you go with me? Hast. I go, my lord.
Prince. Good lords, make all the speedy haste you
may. [Exeunt Cardinal and HASTINGS. Say, uncle Gloster, if our brother come, Where shall we sojourn till our coronation?
Glo. Where it seems best unto your royal self. If I may counsel you, some day or two, Your highness shall repose you at the Tower: Then where you please, and shall be thought most fit For your best health and recreation.
Prince. I do not like the Tower, of any place :Did Julius Caesar build that place, my lord? Glo. He did, my gracious lord, begin that place: Which, since, succeeding ages have re-edified. Prince. Is it upon record? or else reported Successively from age to age he built it? Buck. Upon record, my gracious lord.
Prince. But say, my lord, it were not register'd;
Methinks, the truth should live from age to age,
As 'twere retail'd to all posterity,
Even to the general all-ending day.
Glo. So wise so young, they say, do ne'er live
long.
[Aside.
Prince. What say you, uncle?
Glo. I say, without charácters, fame lives long.
Thus like the formal' vice, Iniquity,
I moralize two meanings in one word. [Aside.
Prince. That Julius Cæsar was a famous man;
With 'what his valor did enrich his wit,
His wit set down to make his valor live:
Death makes no conquest of this conqueror;
For now he lives in fame, though not in life.--
I'll tell you what, my cousin Buckingham,-
Buck. What, my gracious lord?
Prince. An if I live until I be a man,
I'll win our ancient right in France again,
Or die a soldier, as I liv'd a king.
Glo. Short summers lightly have a forward
spring.
[Aside.
Enter YORK, HASTINGS, and the Cardinal. Buck. Now, in good time, here comes the duke of York.
Prince. Richard of York! how fares our loving brother?
York. Well, my dread lord; so must I call you
Prince. Ay, brother; to our grief, as it is yours; Too late' he died, that might have kept that title, Which by his death hath lost much majesty.
Glo. How fares our cousin, noble lord of York? York. I thank you, gentle uncle. O, my lord, You said, that idle weeds are fast in growth: The prince, my brother, hath outgrown me far. Glo. He hath, my lord.
Sensible Vice, the buffoon in the old plays. • Commonly. Lately.
|