Alas, alas!
Witness my son, now in the shade of death,
Whose bright out-shining beams thy cloudy wrath
Hath in eternal darkness folded up.
Your eyrie buildeth in our eyrie’s nest.
O God, that see’st it, do not suffer272 it.
As it is won with blood, lost be it so!
BUCKINGHAM Peace, peace, for shame, if not for charity.
QUEEN MARGARET Urge neither charity nor shame to me:
Uncharitably with me have you dealt,
And shamefully my hopes by you are butchered.
My charity is outrage, life my shame278,
And in that shame still279 live my sorrow’s rage.
BUCKINGHAM Have done, have done.
QUEEN MARGARET O princely Buckingham, I’ll kiss thy hand
In sign of league and amity with thee.
Now fair283 befall thee and thy noble house.
Thy garments are not spotted with our blood,
Nor thou within the compass285 of my curse.
BUCKINGHAM Nor no one here, for curses never pass286
The lips of those that breathe them in the air.
QUEEN MARGARET I will not think but288 they ascend the sky,
And there awake God’s gentle-sleeping peace.
O Buckingham, take heed of yonder dog:
Look when291 he fawns, he bites; and when he bites,
His venom tooth will rankle292 to the death.
Have not to do with him, beware of him.
Sin, death and hell have set their marks294 on him,
And all their ministers attend on him.
RICHARD What doth she say, my lord of Buckingham?
BUCKINGHAM Nothing that I respect297, my gracious lord.
QUEEN MARGARET What, dost thou scorn me for my gentle counsel?
And soothe299 the devil that I warn thee from?
O, but remember this another day,
When he shall split thy very heart with sorrow,
And say poor Margaret was a prophetess.—
Live each of you the subjects to his hate,
And he to yours, and all of you to God’s.
Exit
BUCKINGHAM My hair doth stand on end to hear her curses.
RIVERS And so doth mine. I muse why she’s at liberty.
RICHARD I cannot blame her. By God’s holy mother,
She hath had too much wrong, and I repent
My part thereof that I have done to her.
QUEEN ELIZABETH I never did her any, to my knowledge.
RICHARD Yet you have all the vantage of her wrong.311
I was too hot to do somebody good312,
That is too cold313 in thinking of it now.
Marry, as for Clarence, he is well repaid:
He is franked up to fatting315 for his pains —
God pardon them that are the cause thereof!
RIVERS A virtuous and a Christian-like conclusion,
To pray for them that have done scathe318 to us.
RICHARD So do I ever, being well advised.319—
For had I cursed now, I had cursed myself.
Speaks to himself
Enter Catesby
CATESBY Madam, his majesty doth call for you,
And for your grace, and yours, my gracious lord.
QUEEN ELIZABETH Catesby, I come. Lords, will you go with me?
RIVERS We wait upon324 your grace.
Exeunt all but [Richard of] Gloucester
RICHARD I do the wrong, and first begin to brawl.
The secret mischiefs that I set abroach326
I lay unto the grievous charge of327 others.
Clarence, who I indeed have cast in darkness328,
I do beweep to many simple gulls329 —
Namely, to Derby, Hastings, Buckingham —
And tell them ’tis the queen and her allies331
That stir332 the king against the duke my brother.
Now they believe it, and withal whet333 me
To be revenged on Rivers, Dorset, Grey.
But then I sigh, and with a piece of scripture,
Tell them that God bids us do good for evil:
And thus I clothe my naked villainy
With odd old ends338 stol’n forth of holy writ,
And seem a saint when most I play the devil.
Enter two Murderers
But, soft, here come my executioners.—
How now, my hardy341, stout-resolvèd mates,
Are you now going to dispatch342 this thing?
FIRST MURDERER We are, my lord, and come to have the warrant
That we may be admitted where he is.
RICHARD Well thought upon. I have it here about me.
Gives the warrant
When you have done, repair346 to Crosby Place.
But, sirs, be sudden347 in the execution,
Withal obdurate348, do not hear him plead;
For Clarence is well-spoken349, and perhaps
May move your hearts to pity if you mark350 him.
FIRST MURDERER Tut, tut! My lord, we will not stand to prate351:
Talkers are no good doers. Be assured
We go to use our hands and not our tongues.
RICHARD Your eyes drop millstones when fools’ eyes fall354 tears.
I like you, lads. About your business straight.355
Go, go, dispatch.
FIRST MURDERER We will, my noble lord.
[Exeunt]
running scene 3
Enter Clarence and Keeper
KEEPER Why looks your grace so heavily1 today?
CLARENCE O, I have passed a miserable night,
So full of fearful dreams, of ugly sights,
That, as I am a Christian faithful man,
I would not spend5 another such a night,
Though ’twere6 to buy a world of happy days,
So full of dismal7 terror was the time.
KEEPER What was your dream, my lord? I pray you tell me.
CLARENCE Methoughts that I had broken from the Tower,
And was embarked to cross to Burgundy,
And in my company my brother Gloucester,
Who from my cabin tempted me to walk
Upon the hatches13: there we looked toward England,
And cited up14 a thousand heavy times,
During the wars of York and Lancaster
That had befall’n us. As we paced along
Upon the giddy17 footing of the hatches,
Methought that Gloucester stumbled, and in falling
Struck me, that thought to stay19 him, overboard,
Into the tumbling billows of the main.20
O lord, methought, what pain it was to drown!
What dreadful noise of water in mine ears,
What sights of ugly death within mine eyes.
Methoughts I saw a thousand fearful wrecks:
A thousand men that fishes gnawed upon:
Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl,
Inestimable stones, unvalued27 jewels,
All scattered in the bottom of the sea.
Some lay in dead men’s skulls, and in the holes
Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept,
As ’twere in scorn of eyes, reflecting gems,
That wooed the slimy bottom of the deep,
And mocked the dead bones that lay scattered by.
KEEPER Had you such leisure in the time of death
To gaze upon these secrets of the deep?
CLARENCE Methought I had, and often did I strive
To yield the ghost. But still the envious flood37
Stopped in38 my soul, and would not let it forth
To find the empty, vast39 and wand’ring air,
But smothered it within my panting bulk40,
Which almost burst to belch it in the sea.
KEEPER Awaked you not in this sore42 agony?
CLARENCE No, no, my dream was lengthened after life.
O, then began the tempest to my soul,
I passed, methought, the melancholy flood45,
With that sour ferryman46 which poets write of,
Unto the kingdom of perpetual night.47
The first that there did greet my stranger48 soul,
Was my great father-in-law, renownèd Warwick,
Who spake aloud, ‘What scourge for perjury50
Can this dark monarchy afford51 false Clarence?’
And so he vanished. Then came wand’ring by
A shadow53 like an angel, with bright hair
Dabbled in blood, and he shrieked54 out aloud,
‘Clarence is come: false, fleeting55, perjured Clarence,
That stabbed me in the field56 by Tewkesbury.
Seize on him, Furies57, take him unto torment!’
With that, methought, a legion58 of foul fiends
Environed59 me, and howlèd in mine ears
Such hideous cries, that with the very noise
I trembling waked, and for a season61 after
Could not believe but that I was in hell,
Such terrible impression made the dream.
KEEPER No marvel, lord, though64 it affrighted you,
I am afraid, methinks, to hear you tell it.
CLARENCE Ah, keeper, keeper, I have done these things,
That now give evidence against my soul,
For Edward’s sake, and see how he requites68 me.
O God! If my deep prayers cannot appease thee,
But thou wilt be avenged on my misdeeds,
Yet execute thy wrath in me alone,
O, spare my guiltless wife and my poor children.
Keeper, I prithee73 sit by me awhile.
My soul is heavy74, and I fain would sleep.
KEEPER I will, my lord. God give your grace good rest.
Clarence sleeps
Enter Brackenbury, the Lieutenant
BRACKENBURY Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours76,
Makes the night morning, and the noontide77 night.
Princes have but their titles for78 their glories,
An outward honour for79 an inward toil,
And, for unfelt imaginations80,
They often feel a world of restless cares81:
So that between their titles and low name82,
There’s nothing differs but the outward fame.83
Enter [the] two Murderers
FIRST MURDERER Ho, who’s here?
BRACKENBURY What wouldst thou, fellow? And how cam’st thou hither?
SECOND MURDERER I would speak with Clarence, and I came
hither on my legs.
BRACKENBURY What, so brief?
FIRST MURDERER ’Tis better, sir, than to be tedious. Let
him see our commission, and talk no more.
Gives Brackenbury a paper
Reads
BRACKENBURY I am in this commanded to deliver
The noble Duke of Clarence to your hands.
I will not reason93 what is meant hereby,
Because I will94 be guiltless from the meaning.
There lies the duke asleep, and there the keys.
I’ll to the king and signify to96 him
That thus I have resigned to you my charge.
Exit
FIRST MURDERER You may, sir, ’tis a point of wisdom. Fare you
well.
SECOND MURDERER What, shall we stab him as he sleeps?
FIRST MURDERER No: he’ll say ’twas done cowardly, when he
wakes.
SECOND MURDERER Why he shall never wake until the great
judgement day.
FIRST MURDERER Why, then he’ll say we stabbed him
sleeping.
SECOND MURDERER The urging107 of that word ‘judgement’ hath
bred a kind of remorse in me.
FIRST MURDERER What? Art thou afraid?
SECOND MURDERER Not to kill him, having a warrant, but to be
damned for killing him, from the which no warrant can
defend me.
FIRST MURDERER I thought thou hadst been resolute.
SECOND MURDERER So I am, to let him live.
FIRST MURDERER I’ll back to the Duke of Gloucester and tell him
so.
SECOND MURDERER Nay, I prithee stay117 a little. I hope this
passionate humour of mine will change. It was wont to hold118
me but while one tells twenty.119
They pause or count to twenty
FIRST MURDERER How dost thou feel thyself now?
SECOND MURDERER Some certain dregs of conscience are yet
within me.
FIRST MURDERER Remember our reward, when the deed’s done.
SECOND MURDERER Come, he dies. I had forgot the reward.
FIRST MURDERER Where’s thy conscience now?
SECOND MURDERER O, in the Duke of Gloucester’s purse.
FIRST MURDERER When he opens his purse to give us our
reward, thy conscience flies out.
SECOND MURDERER ’Tis no matter, let it go. There’s few or none
will entertain130 it.
FIRST MURDERER What if it come to thee again?
SECOND MURDERER I’ll not meddle with it: it makes a man a
coward. A man cannot steal, but it accuseth him: a man
cannot swear, but it checks him: a man cannot lie134 with his
neighbour’s wife, but it detects him. ’Tis a blushing
shamefaced spirit that mutinies in a man’s bosom: it fills a
man full of obstacles: it made me once restore137 a purse of gold
that, by chance, I found: it beggars any man that keeps138 it: it
is turned out of towns and cities for139 a dangerous thing: and
every man that means to live well140 endeavours to trust to
himself and live without it.
FIRST MURDERER ’Tis even now at my elbow, persuading me not
to kill the duke.
SECOND MURDERER Take the devil in thy mind, and believe him144
not: he would insinuate145 with thee but to make thee sigh.
FIRST MURDERER I am strong-framed, he cannot prevail with
me.
SECOND MURDERER Spoke like a tall148 man that respects thy
reputation. Come, shall we fall to work?
FIRST MURDERER Take him on the costard150 with the hilts of thy
sword, and then throw him into the malmsey-butt151 in the
next room.
SECOND MURDERER O, excellent device; and make a sop153 of him.
FIRST MURDERER Soft, he wakes.
SECOND MURDERER Strike!
FIRST MURDERER No, we’ll reason156 with him.
CLARENCE Where art thou, keeper? Give me a cup of wine.
SECOND MURDERER You shall have wine enough, my lord, anon.158
CLARENCE In God’s name, what art thou?
FIRST MURDERER A man, as you are.
CLARENCE But not, as I am, royal.
FIRST MURDERER Nor you, as we are, loyal.
CLARENCE Thy voice is thunder, but thy looks are humble.
FIRST MURDERER My voice is now the king’s, my looks mine own.
CLARENCE How darkly and how deadly dost thou speak!
Your eyes do menace me: why look you pale?
Who sent you hither? Wherefore167 do you come?
SECOND MURDERER To, to, to—
CLARENCE To murder me?
BOTH Ay, ay.
CLARENCE You scarcely have the hearts to tell me so,
And therefore cannot have the hearts to do it.
Wherein, my friends, have I offended you?
FIRST MURDERER Offended us you have not, but the king.
CLARENCE I shall be reconciled to him again.
SECOND MURDERER Never, my lord: therefore prepare to die.
CLARENCE Are you drawn forth177 among a world of men
To slay the innocent? What is my offence?
Where is the evidence that doth accuse me?
What lawful quest180 have given their verdict up
Unto the frowning judge? Or who pronounced
The bitter sentence of poor Clarence’ death,
Before I be convict183 by course of law?
To threaten me with death is most unlawful.
I charge185 you, as you hope for any goodness
That you depart and lay no hands on me.
The deed you undertake is damnable.
FIRST MURDERER What we will do, we do upon command.
SECOND MURDERER And he that hath commanded is our king.
CLARENCE Erroneous vassals, the great king of kings190
Hath in the table of his law191 commanded
That thou shalt do no murder.192 Will you then
Spurn at193 his edict and fulfil a man’s?
Take heed, for he holds vengeance in his hand,
To hurl upon their heads that break his law.
SECOND MURDERER And that same vengeance doth he hurl on thee,
For false forswearing197 and for murder, too.
Thou didst receive the sacrament198 to fight
In quarrel of199 the house of Lancaster.
FIRST MURDERER And, like a traitor to the name of God,
Didst break that vow, and with thy treacherous blade
Unripp’dst the bowels of thy sovereign’s son.202
SECOND MURDERER Whom thou wast sworn to cherish and defend.
FIRST MURDERER How canst thou urge God’s dreadful204 law to us,
When thou hast broke it in such dear205 degree?
CLARENCE Alas, for whose sake did I that ill deed?
For Edward, for my brother, for his sake.
He sends you not to murder me for this,
For in that sin he is as deep as I.
If God will be avengèd for the deed,
O, know you yet he doth it publicly.
Take not the quarrel212 from his powerful arm:
He needs no indirect213 or lawless course
To cut off214 those that have offended him.
FIRST MURDERER Who made thee, then, a bloody215 minister,
When gallant-springing216 brave Plantagenet,
That princely novice217, was struck dead by thee?
CLARENCE My brother’s love218, the devil and my rage.
FIRST MURDERER Thy brother’s love, our duty and thy faults,
Provoke us hither now to slaughter thee.
CLARENCE If you do love my brother, hate not me.
I am his brother and I love him well.
If you are hired for meed223, go back again,
And I will send you to my brother Gloucester,
Who shall reward you better for my life
Than Edward will for tidings of my death.
SECOND MURDERER You are deceived, your brother Gloucester hates you.
CLARENCE O no, he loves me, and he holds me dear.
Go you to him from me.
FIRST MURDERER Ay, so we will.
CLARENCE Tell him, when that our princely father York
Blessed his three sons with his victorious arm,
He little thought of this divided friendship.233
Bid Gloucester think on this, and he will weep.
FIRST MURDERER Ay, millstones, as he lessoned235 us to weep.
CLARENCE O, do not slander him, for he is kind.236
FIRST MURDERER Right, as snow in harvest.
Come, you deceive yourself:
’Tis he that sends us to destroy you here.
LARENCE It cannot be, for he bewept my fortune,
And hugged me in his arms, and swore, with sobs
That he would labour my delivery.242
FIRST MURDERER Why, so he doth, when he delivers you
From this earth’s thraldom244 to the joys of heaven.
SECOND MURDERER Make peace with God, for you must die, my lord.
CLARENCE Have you that holy feeling246 in your souls
To counsel me to make my peace with God,
And are you yet to your own souls so blind
That you will war with God by murd’ring me?
O, sirs, consider, they that set you on
To do this deed will hate you for the deed.
To First Murderer
SECOND MURDERER What shall we do?
CLARENCE Relent, and save your souls.
Which of you, if you were a prince’s son,
Being pent255 from liberty, as I am now,
If two such murderers as yourselves came to you,
Would not entreat for life as you would beg,
Were you in my distress?
FIRST MURDERER Relent? No: ’tis cowardly and womanish.
CLARENCE Not to relent is beastly260, savage, devilish.
To Second Murderer
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,
A begging prince what beggar pities not?
SECOND MURDERER Look behind you, my lord.
FIRST MURDERER Take that, and that: if all this will not do,
Stabs him
I’ll drown you in the malmsey-butt within.
Exit [with the body]
SECOND MURDERER A bloody deed, and desperately dispatched.268
How fain, like Pilate, would I wash my hands269
Of this most grievous murder!
Enter First Murderer
FIRST MURDERER How now? What mean’st thou, that thou help’st me not?
By heaven, the duke shall know how slack you have been!
SECOND MURDERER I would he knew that I had saved his brother.
Take thou the fee, and tell him what I say,
For I repent me that the duke is slain.
Exit
FIRST MURDERER 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 out280, and then I must not stay.
Exit
running scene 4
Flourish. Enter the King, sick, the Queen, Lord Marquis Dorset, Rivers,
Hastings, Catesby, Buckingham, Woodville [and others]
KING EDWARD IV Why, so. Now have I done a good day’s work.
You peers, continue this united league.
I every day expect an embassage3
From my redeemer to redeem me hence,
And more to peace my soul shall part to heaven,
Since I have made my friends at peace on earth.—
Dorset and Rivers, take each other’s hand:
Dissemble not8 your hatred, swear your love.
RIVERS By heaven, my soul is purged from9 grudging hate,
And with my hand I seal my true10 heart’s love.
Gives his hand to Hastings
HASTINGS So thrive11 I, as I truly swear the like!
KING EDWARD IV Take heed you dally12 not before your fking,
Lest he that is the supreme king of kings13
Confound your hidden falsehood, and award14
Either of you to be the other’s end.15
HASTINGS So prosper I, as I swear perfect love.
RIVERS And I, as I love Hastings with my heart.
KING EDWARD IV Madam, yourself is not exempt from this,
Nor you, son19 Dorset, Buckingham, nor you;
You have been factious20 one against the other.
Wife, love Lord Hastings: let him kiss your hand,
And what you do, do it unfeignedly.22
QUEEN ELIZABETH There, Hastings, I will never more remember
Our former hatred, so thrive I and mine.
KING EDWARD IV Dorset, embrace him.— Hastings, love Lord Marquis.
DORSET This interchange of love, I here protest26,
Upon my part shall be inviolable.
HASTINGS And so swear I.
They embrace
KING EDWARD IV Now, princely Buckingham, seal thou this league
With thy embracements to my wife’s allies30,
And make me happy in your unity.
To the Queen
BUCKINGHAM Whenever Buckingham doth turn his hate
Upon your grace, but with all duteous love33
Doth cherish you and yours, God punish me
With hate in those where I expect most love.
When I have most need to employ a friend,
And most assurèd that he is a friend,
Deep, hollow, treacherous, and full of guile38
Be he unto me. This do I beg of heaven,
When I am cold in love to you or yours.
Embrace
KING EDWARD IV A pleasing cordial41, princely Buckingham,
Is this thy vow unto my sickly heart.
There wanteth43 now our brother Gloucester here,
To make the blessèd period44 of this peace.
BUCKINGHAM And, in good time45,
Here comes Sir Richard Ratcliffe and the duke.
Enter Ratcliffe and [Richard, Duke of] Gloucester
RICHARD Good morrow47 to my sovereign king and queen.
And, princely peers, a happy time of day!
KING EDWARD IV Happy, indeed, as we have spent the day.
Gloucester, we have done deeds of charity,
Made peace of enmity, fair love of hate,
Between these swelling wrong-incensèd52 peers.
RICHARD A blessèd labour, my most sovereign lord.
Among this princely heap54, if any here,
By false intelligence, or wrong surmise55,
Hold me a foe, if I unwillingly, or in my rage,
Have aught committed that is hardly borne57
To 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 lodged between us.—
Of you and you, Lord Rivers, and of Dorset,
That all without desert67 have frowned on me.—
Of you, Lord Woodville, and, Lord Scales68, of you:
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 tonight.72
I thank my God for my humility.
QUEEN ELIZABETH A holy day shall this be kept hereafter.
I would to God all strifes were well compounded.75—
My sovereign lord, I do beseech your highness
To take our brother Clarence to your grace.77
RICHARD Why, madam, have I offered love for this
To be so flouted79 in this royal presence?
Who knows not that the gentle80 duke is dead?
They all start
You do him injury to scorn his corpse.
KING EDWARD IV Who knows not he is dead? Who knows he is?
QUEEN ELIZABETH All-seeing heaven, what a world is this?
BUCKINGHAM Look I so pale, Lord Dorset, as the rest?
DORSET Ay, my good lord, and no man in the presence
But his red colour hath forsook86 his cheeks.
KING EDWARD IV Is Clarence dead? The order was reversed.
RICHARD But he, poor man, by your first order died,
And that a wingèd Mercury89 did bear:
Some tardy cripple bare the countermand90,
That came too lag91 to see him burièd.
God grant that some, less noble and less loyal92,
Nearer in bloody thoughts, and not in blood,
Deserve not worse than wretched Clarence did,
And yet go current95 from suspicion.
Enter [Lord Stanley,] Earl of Derby
Kneels
DERBY A boon96, my sovereign, for my service done.
KING EDWARD IV I prithee peace. My soul is full of sorrow.
DERBY I will not rise, unless your highness hear me.
KING EDWARD IV Then say at once what is it thou requests.
Rises
DERBY The forfeit, sovereign, of my servant’s life100,
Who slew today a riotous gentleman
Lately attendant on the Duke of Norfolk.
KING EDWARD IV Have I a tongue to doom my brother’s death103,
And shall that tongue give pardon to a slave?
My brother killed no man: his fault was thought,
And yet his punishment was bitter death.
Who sued107 to me for him? Who, in my wrath,
Kneeled at my feet, and bid me be advised?108
Who spoke of brotherhood? Who spoke of love?
Who told me how the poor soul did forsake110
The mighty Warwick and did fight for me?
Who told me, in the field112 at Tewkesbury
When Oxford had me down113, 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 lap116 me
Even in his garments, and did give himself,
All thin and naked, to the numb118 cold night?
All this from my remembrance119 brutish wrath
Sinfully plucked, and not a man of you
Had so much grace to put it in my mind.
But when your carters or your waiting vassals122
Have done a drunken slaughter, and defaced123
The precious image of our dear Redeemer,
You straight125 are on your knees for pardon, pardon,
And I, unjustly too, must grant it you.
But127 for my brother not a man would speak,
Nor I, ungracious128, speak unto myself
For him, poor soul. The proudest129 of you all
Have been beholding130 to him in his life,
Yet none of you would once beg for his life.
O God, I fear thy justice will take hold
On me, and you133, and mine, and yours for this!—
Come, Hastings, help me to my closet.134
Ah, poor Clarence.
Exeunt some with King and Queen
RICHARD This is the fruits of rashness. Marked136 you not
How that the guilty kindred of the queen
Looked pale when they did hear of Clarence’ death?
O, they did urge it still139 unto the king!
God will revenge it. Come, lords, will you go
To comfort Edward with our company.
BUCKINGHAM We wait upon your grace.
Exeunt
Act 2 Scene 2
running scene 4 continues
Enter the old Duchess of York with the two children of Clarence
BOY Good grandam1, tell us, is our father dead?
DUCHESS OF YORK No, boy.
DAUGHTER Why do you weep so oft, and beat your breast,
And cry ‘O Clarence, my unhappy son’?
BOY Why do you look on us, and shake your head,
And call us orphans, wretches, castaways6,
If that our noble father were alive?
DUCHESS OF YORK My pretty cousins8, you mistake me both:
I do lament the sickness of the king,
As10 loath to lose him, not your father’s death.
It were lost11 sorrow to wail one that’s lost.
BOY Then you conclude, my grandam, he is dead.
The king mine uncle is to blame for it.
God will revenge it, whom I will importune14
With earnest prayers all to that effect.
DAUGHTER And so will I.
DUCHESS OF YORK Peace, children, peace. The king doth love you well.
Incapable and shallow18 innocents,
You cannot guess who caused your father’s death.
BOY Grandam, we can, for my good uncle Gloucester
Told me the king, provoked to it by the queen,
Devised impeachments22 to imprison him;
And when my uncle told me so, he wept,
And pitied me, and kindly24 kissed my cheek,
Bade me rely on him as on my father,
And he would love me dearly as a child.
DUCHESS OF YORK Ah, that deceit should steal such gentle shape27,
And with a virtuous visor28 hide deep vice!
He is my son — ay, and therein my shame.
Yet from my dugs30 he drew not this deceit.
BOY Think you my uncle did dissemble, grandam?
DUCHESS OF YORK Ay, boy.
Wailing within
BOY I cannot think it. Hark, what noise is this?
Enter the Queen with her hair about her ears, Rivers and Dorset after her
QUEEN ELIZABETH Ah, who shall hinder me to wail and weep,
To chide35 my fortune, and torment myself?
I’ll join with black36 despair against my soul,
And to myself become an enemy.37
DUCHESS OF YORK What means this scene of rude impatience?38
QUEEN ELIZABETH To make an act39 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 want42 their sap?
If you will live, lament: if die, be brief43,
That our swift-wingèd souls may catch44 the king’s,
Or, like obedient subjects, follow him
To his new kingdom of ne’er-changing night.
DUCHESS OF YORK Ah, so much interest47 have I in thy sorrow
As I had title in48 thy noble husband.
I have bewept a worthy husband’s death,
And lived with looking on his images50:
But now two mirrors of his princely semblance51
Are cracked in pieces by malignant death,
And I for comfort have but one false glass53,
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.
But death hath snatched my husband from mine arms,
And plucked two crutches from my feeble hands,
Clarence and Edward. O, what cause have I,
Thine being but a moiety60 of my moan,
To overgo61 thy woes and drown thy cries.
To the Queen
BOY Ah, aunt, you wept not for our father’s death:
How can we aid you with our kindred63 tears?
DAUGHTER Our fatherless distress was left unmoaned.64
To the Queen
Your widow-dolour likewise be65 unwept.
QUEEN ELIZABETH Give me no help in lamentation,
I am not barren to bring forth complaints.67
All springs reduce68 their currents to mine eyes,
That I, being governed by the watery moon69,
May send forth plenteous tears to drown the world.
Ah, for my husband, for my dear lord Edward!
CHILDREN Ah, for our father, for our dear lord Clarence!
DUCHESS OF YORK Alas for both, both mine, Edward and Clarence!
QUEEN ELIZABETH What stay74 had I but Edward? And he’s gone.
CHILDREN What stay had we but Clarence? And he’s gone.
DUCHESS OF YORK What stays had I but they? And they are gone.
QUEEN ELIZABETH Was never widow had so dear77 a loss.
CHILDREN Were never orphans had so dear a loss!
DUCHESS OF YORK Was never mother had so dear a loss.
Alas, I am the mother of these griefs!
Their woes are parcelled, mine is general.81
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 distressed,
Pour all your tears! I am your sorrow’s nurse87,
And I will pamper88 it with lamentation.
To the Queen
DORSET Comfort, dear mother. God is much displeased
That you take with unthankfulness, his doing.
In common worldly things, ’tis called ungrateful,
With dull92 unwillingness to repay a debt
Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent,
Much more to be thus opposite94 with heaven,
For it requires95 the royal debt it lent you.
RIVERS Madam, bethink you, like a careful96 mother
Of the young prince your son: send straight for him
Let him be crowned.
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