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 sovereign, for my service done! K. Edw. I pr'ythee, 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 sued 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
But for my brother, not a man would speak,-
Nor I (ungracious) speak unto myself
For him, poor soul. The proudest of
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!

you :

you

all

[Exeunt King, Queen, Hastings, Rivers, Dorset, and Grey.

(1) Ignorant.

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 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 loth 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 impórtune
With earnest prayers all to that effect.
Daugh. And so will I.

Duch. Peace, children, peace! the king doth love you well:

Incapable1 and shallow innocents,

You cannot guess who caus'd your father's death. Son. Grandam, we can: for my good uncle

Gloster

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
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, gran-
dam?

Duch. Ay, boy.

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 noble 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-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 Cla

rence!

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 parceil'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 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. Enter Gloster, 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 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

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 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 ungov

ern'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 censure2 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 index3 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.

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;1

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. Čome, 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 reason2 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.

SCENE IV. The same. A room in the palace.
Enter the archbishop of York, the young duke
of York, Queen Elizabeth, and the duchess of
York.

Arch. Last night, I heard, they lay at
Stratford;

Q. Eliz.

The mighty dukes,

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 young 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 Inake
haste.

Duch. 'Good faith, good faith, the saying did

not hold

Upon the innocent and awless throne:-
Welcome, destruction, blood, and massacre!
I see, as in a map, the end of all.

Duch. Accursed and unquiet wrangling days!
How many of you have mine eyes beheld?
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:-O, 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. [Exeunt.

(3) Perilous, dangerous.

ACT III. SCENE 1-The same. A street. The trumpets sound. Enter the prince of Wales, Gloster, Buckingham, Cardinal Bouchier, and others. Buck. Welcome, sweet prince, to London, to your chamber.

Glo. Welcome, dear cousin, my thoughts' sove

reign:

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.

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

once.

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 the sugar'd words,
But look'd not on the poison of their hearts:
God keep you from them, and from such false

friends!

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: Fie, what a slug is Hastings! that he comes not To tell us, whether they will come, or no. Enter Hastings.

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 grace, But by his mother was perforce withheld.

Buck. Fie! 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:
This prince hath neither claim'd it, nor deserv'd it;
And therefore, in mine opinion, cannot have it:

(1) Sensible vice, the buffoon in the old plays.

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 Cæsar build that place, my lord?

Glo. He did, my gracious ford, 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?

[Aside.

Glo. I say, without characters, fame lives long. Thus, like the formal vice, Iniquity, moralize two meanings in one word.

I

Prince. That Julius Cæsar was a famous man; With what his valour did enrich his wit, His wit set down to make his valour 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 lightly2 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

now.

Prince. Ay, brother; to our grief, as it is yours: Too late3 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. York. And therefore is he idle? Glo. O, my fair cousin, I must not say so. York. Then is he more beholden to you, than I? Glo. He may command me, as my sovereign; But you have power in me, as in a kinsman York. I pray you, uncle, then give me this dagger.

Glo. My dagger, little cousin? with all my heart. Prince A beggar. brother?

York. Of my kind uncle, that I know will give;

And, being but a toy, which is no grief to give.
Glo. A greater gift than that I'll give my cousin.
York. A greater gift! O, that's the sword to it?
Glo. Ay, gentle cousin, were it light enough.
York. O then, I see, you'll part but with light
gifts;

In weightier things you'll say a beggar, nay.
Glo. It is too weighty for your grace to wear.
York. I weigh it lightly, were it heavier.
Glo. What, would you have my we on, little
lord?

York. I would, that I might thank you as you call me.

To mitigate the scorn he gives his uncle,

He prettily and aptly taunts himself:

So cunning, and so young, is wonderful.

And summon him to-morrow to the Tower, To sit about the coronation.

If thou dost find him tractable to us,
Encourage him, and tell him all our reasons:
If he be leaden, icy, cold, unwilling,
Be thou so too, and so break off the talk,
And give us notice of his inclination :
For we to-morrow hold divided3 councils,
Wherein thyself shalt highly be employ'd.
Glo. Commend me to lord William: tell him,
Catesby,

His ancient knot of dangerous adversaries
To-morrow are let blood at Pomfret-castle;
And bid my friend, for joy of this good news,
Give mistress Shore one gentle kiss the more.
Buck. Good Catesby, go, effect this business
soundly.

Cate. My good lords both, with all the heed I can. Glo. Shall we hear from you, Catesby, ere we sleep?

Cate. You shall, my lord.

Glo. AtCrosby-place, there shall you find us both. Exit Catesby. Buck. Now, my lord, what shall we do, if we perceive

Lord Hastings will not yield to our complots? Glo. Chop off his head, man;-somewhat we will do:

And, look, when I am king, claim thou of me

along?

Myself, and my good cousin Buckingham,

Will to your mother; to entreat of her,

To meet you at the Tower, and welcome you. York. What, will you go unto the Tower, my lord?

Prince. My lord protector needs will have it so. York. I shall not sleep in quiet at the Tower. Glo. Why, sir, what should you fear?

York. Marry, my uncle Clarence' angry ghost; My grandam told me, he was murder'd there. Prince. I fear no uncles dead.

Glo. Nor none that live, I hope.

Prince. An if they live, I hope, I need not fear. But come, my lord, and with a heavy heart, Thinking on them, go I unto the Tower.

[Exeunt Prince, York, Hastings, Cardinal, and attendants.

Buck. Think you, my lord, this little prating York Was not incens'd' by his subtle mother, To taunt and scorn you thus opprobriously?

Glo. No doubt, no doubt: O, 'tis a parlous boy; Bold, quick, ingenious, forward, capable;2 He's all the mother's, from the top to toe.

Buck. Well, let them rest.— Come hither, gentle Catesby; thou art sworn As deeply to effect what we intend, As closely to conceal what we impart : ́ Thou know'st our reasons urg'd upon the way;What think'st thou? is it not an easy matter To make William lord Hastings of our mind, For the instalment of this noble duke In the seat royal of this famous isle?

Cate. He for his father's sake so loves the prince, That he will not be won to aught against him. Buck. What think'st thou then of Stanley? will! not he?

Cate. He will do all in all as Hastings doth. Buck. Well then, no more but this: Go, gentle Catesby,

And, as it were far off, sound thou lord Hastings, How he doth stand affected to our purpose;

Whereof the king my brother was possess'd.
Buck. I'll claim that promise at your grace's

hand.

Hast. Cannot thy master sleep the tedious nights? Mess. So it should seem by that I have to say. First, he commends him to your noble lordship. Hast. And then,

Mess. And then he sends you word, he dreamt To-night the boar had rased off his helm": Besides, he says, there are two councils held; And that may be determin'd at the one, Which may make you and him to rue at the other. Therefore he sends to know your lordship's plea

sure,

If presently, you will take horse with him,
And with all speed post with him toward the north,
To shun the danger that his soul divines.

Hast. Go, fellow, go, return unto thy lord;
Bid him not fear the separated councils :
His honour, and myself, are at the one;
And, at the other, is my good friend Catesby;
Where nothing can proceed, that toucheth us,
Whereof I shall not have intelligence.
Tell him, his fears are shallow, wanting instance:4
And for his dreams-I wonder, he's so fonds
To trust the mockery of unquiet slumbers:
To fly the boar, before the boar pursues,
Were to incense the boar to follow us,
And make pursuit, where he did mean no chase.