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Buck. Alas, madam! too well-he sleeps for ever!
Am I still left the last, in life, and woe?
But now, my last support is gone.-First, Clarence,
Unless a churlish disposition may
Be counted from a child a mother's comfort.
Buck. I left her with her kinsmen, deep in sorrow,
Enter QUEEN, RIVERS, and DORSET.
Queen. Why do you thus oppose my grief? unless, To make me rave, and weep, the faster? ha! My mother too, in tears! fresh sorrow strikes My heart, at sight of every friend that lov'd My Edward, living! Oh, mother, he's dead! Edward, my lord, thy son, our king, is dead! Oh, that my eyes could weep away my soul ! Then I might follow, worthy of his hearse.
Stanley. Your duty, madam, of a wife, is dead, And now, the mother's only, claims your care. Think on the prince, your son-send for him, straight, And let his coronation clear your eyes,
Bury your griefs in the dead Edward's grave-
Queen. Alas! that thought, but adds to my afflictions !
New tears for Edward, gone, and fears for Edward, living!
An helpless child, in his minority,
Is in the trust of his stern uncle, Gloster-
Buck. Judge not so hardly, madam, of his love: Your son will find in him, a father's care.
Enter GLOSTER, behind.
Glost. Why, ah! these tears look well-Sorrow's the mode,
And every one at court must wear it now :
With all my heart; I'll not be out of fashion. [Aside. Queen. My lord, just Heaven knows, I never hated Gloster!
But would, on any terms, embrace his friendship. Buck. These words would make him weep-I know him yours.
See, where he comes, in sorrow for our loss.
Glost. My lords, good morrow-Cousin of Buckingham,
I am yours.
Buck. Good morning to your grace.
We meet, like men that had forgot to speak.
Buck. We may remember; but our argument,
Is now too mournful to admit such talk.
Glost. It is, indeed! Peace be with him, that made it so!
Sister, take comfort; 'tis true, we've all cause
Madam, my mother, I do cry you mercy,
My grief was blind-I did not see your grace;
Heart and tongue love one another! may Heav'n
[Aside. Buck. My lords, I think 'twere fit, that, now, Prince Edward
Forthwith, from Ludlow, should be sent for, home, In order to his coronation.
Glost. By all means, my lord ;-Come, let's in, to counsel,
And appoint, who shall be the messengers:
Queen. My lord, your wisdom needs no help from
My glad consent you have, in all that's just,
What you'll not think the people's wrongs, nor yours. Queen. May Heaven prosper all your good intent!
[Exeunt all but GLOSTER and BUCKINGHAM. Glost. Amen, with all my heart!-for mine's the
And is not that a good one?-ha! pray'd she not well, cousin?
Buck. I hope she prophesy'd-you now stand fair. Glost. Now, by St. Paul, I feel it here! methinks The massy weight on't, galls my laden brow: What think'st thou, cousin, wer't not an easy matter To get Lord Stanley's hand, to help it on?
Buck. My lord, I doubt that; for his father's sake,
He loves the prince too well-he'll scarce be won
Glost. Poverty, the reward of honest fools,
O'ertake him for't! What think'st thou, then, of Hastings?
Buck. He shall be try'd, my lord; I'll find out
Who shall at subtle distance sound his thoughts-
Glost. Chop off his head!-something we'll soon determine:
But haste, and find out Catesby,
'That done, follow me to the council chamber
It known, that we confer in private, therefore,
Buck. I am gone, my lord.
Glost. Thus far, we run before the wind;
My fortune smiles, and gives me all that I dare ask.
The conquer'd Lady Anne is bound in vows ;
Let me see
The prince will soon be here-let him! the crown! Oh, yes, he shall have twenty-globes, and sceptres too!
New ones made to play withal, but no coronationNo, nor any court-flies about him-no kinsmen. Hold ye-where shall he keep his court?-the Tower?
ACT THE THIRD.
PRINCE EDWARD, GLOSTER, BUCKINGHAM, LORD STANLEY, TRESSEL, and ATTENDANTS, discovered.
Glost. Now, my royal cousin, welcome to London!
Welcome to all those honour'd dignities,
Which, by your father's will, and by your birth,
Tressel. More uncles! what means his highness?
Secur'd his kinsmen on the way.-Lord Rivers, Gray,
On what pretence it boots not, there they are ;