Buck.
Did you see the duke?

Stanley.
What duke, my lord?

Buck.
His grace of Glo'ster, did you see him?

Stanley.
Not lately, my lord—I hope no ill news.

Buck.
The worst that heart e'er bore, or tongue can utter,
Edward the king, his royal brother, 's dead!

Stanley.
'Tis sad indeed—I wish, by your impatience
To acquaint him tho', you think it so to him: [Aside.
Did the king, my lord, make any mention
Of a protector for his crown and children?

Buck.
He did—Duke Richard has the care of both.

Stanley.
That sad news you are afraid to tell him too. [Aside.

Buck.
He'll spare no toil, I'm sure, to fill his place.

Stanley.
Pray heav'n he's not too diligent. [Aside.
My lord—Is not that the dutchess of York.
The king's mother? coming, I fear, to visit him.

Buck.
'Tis she—little thinking what has befall'n us. Enter Dutchess of York.

Dut. of York.
Good day, my lords; how takes the king his rest?

Buck.
Alas! madam, too well—he sleeps for ever.

Dut. of York.
Dead! Good heav'n, support me!

Buck.
Madam, 'twas my unhappy lot to hear
His last departing groans, and close his eyes.

Dut. of York.
Another taken from me, too! why, just heav'n,
Am I still left the last in life and woe?
First I bemoan'd a noble husband's death,
Yet liv'd with looking on his images* ^note:
But now my last support is gone—first Clarence,
Now Edward is for ever taken from me:
And I must now of force sink down with sorrow.

Buck.
Your youngest son, the noble Richard, lives:
His love, I know, will feel his mother's cares,
And bring new comfort to your latter days.

Dut. of York.
'Twere new indeed! for yet of him I've none,
Unless a churlish disposition may
Be counted from a child a mother's comfort.
Where is the queen, my lord?

Buck.
I left her with her kinsmen, deep in sorrow,
Who have with much ado persuaded her
To leave the body—Madam, they are here.

Enter* ^note 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,
Revive your joys on living Edward's throne.

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 Glo'ster;
A man that frowns on me, and all of mine.

Buck.
Judge not so hardly, madam, of his love;
Your son will find in him a father's care. Enter Glo'ster behind.

Glo'st.
Why, ay! 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 Glo'ster:
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.

Glo'st.
My lords, good-morrow—Cousin of Buckingham,
I am yours. [Weeps.

Buck.
Good morning to your grace.

Glo'st.
Methinks,
We meet like men that had forgot to speak.

Buck.
We may remember—but our argument
Is now too mournful to admit much talk.

Glo'st.
It is, indeed! Peace be with him that made it so!
Sister, take comfort—'tis true, we've all cause
To mourn the dimming of our shining star;
But sorrow never could revive the dead;
And, if it could, hope would prevent our tears;
So we must weep because we weep in vain.
Madam, my mother—I do cry you mercy,
My grief was blind—I did not see your grace.
Most humbly on my knee I crave your blessing* ^note.

Dut. of York.
Thou hast it, and may thy charitable
Heart and tongue love one another! may heav'n
Endow thy breast with meekness and obedience!

Glo'st.
Amen, and make me die a good old man!
That's the old but-end of a mother's blessing;
I marvel that her grace did leave it out. [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.

Glo'st.
By all means, my lords—Come, let's in to council,
And appoint who shall be the messengers:
Madam, and you, my sister, please you go
To give your sentiments on this occasion.

Queen.
My lord, your wisdom needs no help from me,
My glad consent you have in all that's just;
Or for the people's good, tho' I suffer by't.

Glo'st.
Please you to retire, madam; we shall propose
What you'll not think the people's wrong nor yours.

Queen.
May heaven prosper all your good intent! [Exeunt all but Glo'ster and Buck.

Glo'st.
Amen, with all my heart—for mine's the crown;
And is not that a good one—ha! pray'd she not well, cousin?

Buck.
I hope she prophesy'd—you now stand fair.

Glo'st.
Now, by St. Paul, I feel it here—methinks
The massy weight on't galls my laden brow:
What think'st thou, cousin, wert 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
To any thing against him.

Glo'st.
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 Catesby.
Who shall at subtle distance sound his thoughts:
But we must still suppose the worst may happen:
What if we find him cold in our design?

Glo'st.
Chop off his head—something we'll soon determine;
But haste, and find out Catesby,
That done, follow me to the council-chamber;
We'll not be seen together much, nor have
It known that we confer in private—therefore
Away, good cousin.

Buck.
I am gone, my lord. [Exit.

Glo'st.
Thus far we run before the wind;
My fortune smiles, and gives me all that I dare ask.
The conquer'd lady Ann is bound in vows;
Fast as the priest can make us, we are one.
The king my brother sleeps without his pillow,
And I'm left guardian of his infant heir.
Let me see—
The prince will soon be here—let him! the crown!
Oh yes! he shall have twenty; globes and scepters, too.
New ones made to play withal—but no coronation—
No, nor any court-flies about him—no kinsmen.
Hold ye—where shall he keep his court? The Tower?
Ay—the Tower. [Exit.* ^note

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