K. Edw.
Why so: now have I ^note done a good day's work:
You peers, continue this ^note united league:
I every day expect an embassage
From my Redeemer to redeem ^note me hence;
And now in peace ^note my soul shall part to ^note heaven,
Since I have set ^note my friends ^note at peace on earth.
Rivers and Hastings ^note, take each other's hand;
Dissemble not your hatred, swear your love.

Riv.
By heaven, my soul ^note is purged from grudging hate;
And with my hand I seal my true heart's love.

Hast.
So thrive I, as I truly ^note 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, yourself are not ^note exempt in this ^note,
Nor your son ^note 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.
Here ^note, Hastings; I will never more remember
Our former hatred, so thrive I and mine!

K. Edw.
Dorset, embrace him; Hastings, love lord marquess ^note.

Dor.
This ^note interchange of love, I here protest,
Upon my part shall be unviolable ^note.

Hast.
And so swear I ^note, my lord ^note. [They embrace. ^note

K. Edw.
Now, princely Buckingham, seal thou ^note this league
With thy embracements ^note to my wife's ^note allies,
And make me happy in your ^note unity.

Buck. [To the Queen ^note]
Whenever Buckingham doth turn his hate
On you or yours but with all ^note duteous love
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 assured that he is a friend,
Deep, hollow, treacherous and full of guile,
Be he unto ^note me! this do I beg of God ^note,
When I am cold in zeal ^note to you or yours. [They embrace. ^note

K. Edw.
A pleasing cordial, princely Buckingham,
Is this thy vow unto my sickly heart.
There wanteth now our brother Gloucester here,
To make the perfect ^note period of this peace.

Buck.
And, in good time, here comes the noble duke. ^note Enter Gloucester. ^note

Glou.
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 ^note, we have done deeds of charity;
Made peace of enmity, fair love of hate,
Between these swelling wrong-incensed ^note peers.

Glou.
A blessed labour, my ^note most sovereign liege ^note:
Amongst ^note this princely heap, if any here,
By false intelligence, or wrong surmise,
Hold me a foe;
If I unwittingly ^note, or in my rage ^{note note},
Have aught ^note committed that is hardly borne
By ^note any in this presence, I desire
To reconcile me to his ^note friendly peace:
'Tis death to me to be at enmity;
I hate it, and desire all good men's love.
First ^note, madam, I entreat true ^note peace of you,
Which I will ^note purchase with my duteous service;
Of you, my noble cousin Buckingham,

If ever any grudge were lodged between us;
Of you, Lord Rivers, and, Lord Grey, of you ^note, ^note
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 ^note shall this be kept hereafter:
I would to God all strifes ^note were well compounded.
My sovereign liege ^note, I do beseech your ^note majesty ^note
To take our brother Clarence to your grace.

Glou.
Why, madam, have I offer'd love for this,
To be so flouted ^note in this royal presence?
Who knows not that the noble ^note duke is dead? [They all start. ^note
You do him injury to scorn his corse.

Riv. ^note
Who knows not he is dead! who knows he is? ^note

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 one ^note in this presence ^note
But his red colour hath forsook his cheeks.

K. Edw.
Is Clarence dead? the order was reversed.

Glou.
But he, poor soul ^note, by your ^note first order died,
And that a winged ^note Mercury did bear;
Some tardy cripple bore ^note the countermand,
That came ^note too lag to see him buried.

God grant that some, less noble and less loyal,
Nearer in bloody thoughts, but ^note not in blood,
Deserve not worse ^note than wretched Clarence did,
And yet go current from suspicion! Enter Derby. ^note

Der.
A boon, my sovereign, for my service done!

K. Edw.
I pray thee ^note, peace: my soul is full of sorrow.

Der.
I will not rise, unless your highness grant. ^note

K. Edw.
Then speak ^note at once what is it thou demand'st. ^note

Der. ^note
The forfeit, sovereign, of my servant's life;
Who slew to-day a riotous gentleman
Lately attendant on ^note the Duke of Norfolk.

K. Edw.
Have I a tongue to doom my brother's death,
And shall that tongue ^note give pardon to a slave?
My brother slew ^note no man; his fault was thought ^note,
And yet his punishment was cruel ^note death.
Who sued to me for him? who, in my rage ^note,
Kneel'd at my feet and bade ^note me be advised?
Who spake ^note of brotherhood? who spake of love ^note?
Who told me how the poor soul did forsake
The mighty Warwick, and did fight for me?
Who told me, in the field by ^note 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 ^note the field

Frozen almost to death, how he did lap ^note me
Even in his own garments ^note, and gave ^note himself,
All thin and naked ^note, 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 ^note 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 ^note would speak,
Nor, I ungracious, speak unto ^note myself
For him, poor soul. The proudest of ^note you all
Have been beholding ^note to him in his life;
Yet none of you would once plead ^note for his life.
O God, I fear thy justice will take hold
On me, and you, and mine, and yours ^note for this!
Come, Hastings, help ^{note note} me to my closet. Oh ^note, poor Clarence ^note! [Exeunt ^note some with King and Queen.

Glou.
This is the fruit ^note of rashness ^note. Mark'd ^note you not
How that the guilty ^note kindred of the queen
Look'd pale when they did hear of Clarence' ^note death?
O, they did urge it still unto the king!

God will revenge it. But come, let us in, ^note
To comfort Edward with our company.

Buck.
We wait upon your grace ^note. [Exeunt. Scene II. The palace. ^note Enter ^note the Duchess of York, with the two children of Clarence.

Boy. ^note
Tell me, good grandam ^note, is our father dead?

Duch.
No, boy.

Boy. ^note
Why do you wring your hands, and ^note beat your breast,
And cry ‘O Clarence, my unhappy son’?

Girl. ^note
Why do you look on us, and shake your head,
And call us wretches, orphans ^note, castaways,
If that our noble father be ^note alive?

Duch.
My pretty cousins, you mistake me much ^note.
I do lament the sickness of the king,
As loath to lose him; not your father's death ^note;
It were lost sorrow to wail ^note one that's lost.

Boy.
Then, grandam, you conclude that ^note he is dead.
The king my ^note uncle is to blame ^note for this ^note:
God will revenge it; whom I will importune
With daily ^note prayers all to that effect ^note.

Girl.
And so will I ^note.

Duch.
Peace, children, peace! the king doth love you well:
Incapable and shallow innocents,
You cannot guess who caused your father's death.

Boy.
Grandam ^note, we can; for my good uncle Gloucester
Told me, the king, provoked ^note by the queen,
Devised impeachments to imprison him:
And when my uncle ^note told me so, he wept,
And hugg'd me in his arm ^note, and kindly ^note kiss'd my cheek ^note;
Bade ^note me rely on him as on my ^note father,
And he would love me dearly as his ^note child.

Duch.
Oh ^note, that deceit should steal such gentle shapes ^note,
And with a virtuous vizard ^note hide foul guile ^note!
He is my son; yea ^note, and therein my shame;
Yet from my dugs he drew not this deceit.

Boy.
Think you my uncle did dissemble, grandam ^note?

Duch.
Ay, boy.

Boy.
I cannot think it. Hark! what noise is this? Enter Queen Elizabeth ^note, with her hair about her ears; Rivers and Dorset after her.

Q. Eliz.
Oh ^note, who shall hinder me to wail and weep,
To chide my fortune and torment myself?
I'll join with black despair against my soul ^note,
And to myself become an enemy ^note.

Duch.
What means this scene of rude impatience?

Q. Eliz.
To make an act of tragic violence:
Edward, my lord, your ^note son, our king, is dead.

Why grow the branches now the root is wither'd? ^note
Why wither not the leaves the sap being gone ^note?
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 ^note.

Duch.
Ah ^note, so much interest have I ^note in thy sorrow
As I had title in ^note thy ^note noble husband!
I have bewept a worthy husband's death,
And lived by ^note looking on his images ^note:
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,
Which ^note 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 ^note:
But death hath snatch'd my husband ^note from mine arms,
And pluck'd two crutches from my feeble limbs ^note,
Edward and Clarence ^note. O, what cause have I,
Thine ^note being but a moiety ^note of my grief ^note,
To overgo thy plaints ^note and drown thy cries ^note!

Boy.
Good ^note aunt, you wept ^note not for our ^note father's death,
How can we aid you with our kindred ^note tears?

Girl. ^note
Our fatherless distress was left unmoan'd;

Your widow-dolour ^note likewise be unwept!

Q. Eliz.
Give me no help in lamentation;
I am not barren to bring forth complaints ^note:
All springs reduce their currents to mine eyes,
That I, being govern'd by the watery moon ^note,
May send forth plenteous tears to drown the world! ^note
Oh ^note for my husband ^note, for my dear ^note lord Edward!

Chil. ^note
Oh ^note for our father, for our dear lord Clarence!

Duch.
Alas for both, both mine, Edward and Clarence ^note!

Q. Eliz.
What stay had I but Edward? and he's ^note gone.

Chil. ^note
What stay had we but Clarence? and he's ^note gone.

Duch.
What stays ^note had I but they? and they are gone.

Q. Eliz.
Was never ^note widow had so dear a loss.

Chil. ^note
Were never ^note orphans had so dear a ^note loss.

Duch.
Was never ^note mother had so dear a ^note loss.
Alas, I am the mother of these moans ^note!
Their woes are parcell'd, mine are ^note general.
She for an ^note Edward weeps, and so do I;
I for a Clarence weep ^note, so doth not she:
These babes for Clarence weep, and so do I;
I for an Edward weep ^note, so do not they ^note: ^note
Alas, you three, on me threefold distress'd
Pour ^note all your ^note tears! I am your sorrow's nurse,

And I will pamper it with lamentations ^note.

Dor.
Comfort, dear mother: God is much displeased
That you take with unthankfulness ^note his doing:
In common worldly things, 'tis call'd ungrateful,
With dull unwillingness to repay ^note 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 ^note. Enter Gloucester ^note, Buckingham, Derby, Hastings, and Ratcliff. ^note

Glou.
Madam ^note, have comfort: all of us have cause
To wail the dimming of our shining star;
But none can cure their ^note harms by wailing them.
Madam, my mother, I do cry you mercy;
I did not see your grace ^note: humbly on ^note my knee ^note
I crave your blessing.

Duch.
God bless thee, and put meekness in thy mind ^note,
Love, charity, obedience, and true duty!

Glou. [Aside ^note]
Amen; and make me die ^note a good old man!
That is ^note the butt-end of a ^note mother's blessing:
I marvel why ^note her grace did leave it out.

Buck.
You cloudy princes and heart-sorrowing peers,
That bear this mutual heavy ^note load of moan,

Now cheer each other ^note in each other's love:
Though we have spent our harvest of ^note this king,
We are to reap the harvest of his son ^note.
The broken rancour of your high-swoln hearts ^note,
But lately ^note splinter'd ^note, knit and join'd together,
Must gently ^note be preserved, cherish'd, and kept:
Me seemeth good, that, with some little train,
Forthwith from Ludlow the young prince be fetch'd ^note
Hither to London, to be crown'd our king.

Riv.
Why with some little train, my Lord of Buckingham? ^note

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 ^note yet ungovern'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.

Glou. ^note
I hope the king made peace with all of us;
And the compact is firm and true in me.

Riv. ^note
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 ^note should fetch the prince.

Hast.
And so say I ^note. ^note

Glou.
Then be it so; and go we to determine
Who they shall be that straight shall post to Ludlow ^note.

Madam, and you, my mother ^note, will you go
To give your censures ^note in this weighty ^note business?

Q. Eliz. Duch.
With all our hearts. ^note [Exeunt ^note all but Buckingham and Gloucester.

Buck.
My lord, whoever journeys to the prince,
For God's sake, let not us two be behind ^note;
For, by the way, I'll sort occasion,
As index to the story we late ^note talk'd of,
To part the queen's proud kindred from the king ^note.

Glou.
My other self, my counsel's consistory,
My oracle, my prophet!—My ^note dear cousin,
I, like ^note a child, will go by thy direction.
Towards ^note Ludlow ^note then, for we'll ^note not stay behind. [Exeunt. ^note Scene III. [Footnote: London. A street. ^note Enter ^note two Citizens, meeting.

First Cit.
Neighbour, well met ^note: whither ^note away so fast?

Sec. Cit.
I promise you, I scarcely ^note know myself:
Hear ^note you the news abroad? ^note

First Cit.
Ay ^note, that ^note the king is dead.

Sec. Cit. ^note
Bad ^note news, by'r lady, seldom comes the better ^note:

I fear, I fear, 'twill prove a troublous ^note world. Enter another Citizen.

Third Cit.
Neighbours, God speed! ^note

First Cit. ^note
Give you good morrow, sir.

Third Cit.
Doth this ^note news hold of good King Edward's death?

Sec. Cit.
Ay, sir, it is too true; God help the while ^note!

Third Cit.
Then, masters, look to see a troublous ^note world.

First Cit.
No, no; by God's good ^note grace his son shall reign.

Third Cit.
Woe to that land that's govern'd by a child!

Sec. Cit.
In him there is a hope ^note of government ^note,
That ^note in his nonage council under him ^note,
And in his full and ^note ripen'd ^note years himself,
No doubt, shall then and till then govern well.

First Cit.
So stood the state ^note when Henry ^note the Sixth ^note
Was crown'd in Paris ^note but at nine ^note months old.

Third Cit.
Stood the state so? No, no, good friends, God wot ^note;
For then this ^note land was famously enrich'd
With ^note politic grave counsel; then the king
Had virtuous uncles to protect his grace.

First Cit. ^note
Why, so ^note hath this, both by the father ^note and mother.

Third Cit.
Better it were they all came by the father ^note,
Or by the father ^note there were none at all;
For emulation now, who shall ^note be nearest ^note,
Will ^note touch us all too near, if God prevent not.
O, full of danger is the Duke of Gloucester!
And the queen's sons and brothers haught ^note and proud ^note:
And were they to be ruled, and not to rule ^note,
This sickly land ^note might solace as before.

First Cit. ^{note note}
Come, come, we fear the worst; all shall ^note be well.

Third Cit.
When clouds appear ^note, wise men put on their cloaks;
When great leaves fall, the ^note winter is at hand;
When the sun sets, who doth not look for night?
Untimely storms make ^note men ^note expect a dearth.
All may ^note be well; but, if God sort it so,
'Tis more than we deserve, or I expect.

Sec. Cit. ^note
Truly, the souls ^note of men are full of dread ^note:
Ye ^note cannot reason almost ^note with a man
That looks not heavily ^note and full of fear ^note.

Third Cit.
Before the times ^note of change, still is it ^note so:
By a divine instinct men's minds mistrust
Ensuing dangers ^note; as, by proof, we see
The waters ^note swell before a boisterous ^note storm.

But leave it all to God. Whither ^note away?

Sec. Cit.
Marry ^note, we were ^note sent for to the justices ^note.

Third Cit.
And so was I: I'll bear you company. [Exeunt. ^note Scene IV. [Footnote: London. The palace. ^note Enter ^note the Archbishop of York, the young Duke of York, Queen Elizabeth, and the Duchess of York.

Arch.
Last night, I hear ^note, they lay at Northampton ^note;
At Stony-Stratford will they be to-night:
To-morrow, or next day, they will ^note be here.

Duch.
I long with all my heart to see the prince:
I hope he is much grown since last I ^note saw him.

Q. Eliz.
But I hear, no ^note; they say my son of York
Hath ^note almost ^note overta'en him in his ^note growth.

York.
Ay, mother; but I would not have it so.

Duch.
Why, my young ^note cousin, ^note it is good to grow.

York.
Grandam ^note, 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 Gloucester ^note,
‘Small herbs ^note have grace, great weeds do ^note 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:

He was the wretched'st thing when he was young,
So long a-growing and so leisurely,
That, if this rule were true ^note, he should be gracious.

Arch. ^note
Why, madam, so, no doubt, he is ^note.

Duch.
I hope so too ^note; 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. ^{note note}

Duch.
How, my pretty ^note York? I pray thee ^note, let me hear it.

York.
Marry, they ^note say my ^note uncle grew so fast ^note
That he could gnaw a crust at two hours old ^note:
'Twas full two years ere I could get a tooth.
Grandam ^note, this would have been a biting ^note jest.

Duch.
I pray thee ^note, pretty York, who told thee this ^note?

York.
Grandam ^note, his nurse.

Duch.
His nurse ^note! why, she was dead ere thou wert ^note born.

York.
If 'twere not she, I cannot tell who told me.

Q. Eliz.
A parlous ^note boy: go to ^note, you are ^note too shrewd.

Arch. ^note
Good madam, be not angry with the ^note child.

Q. Eliz.
Pitchers have ^note ears. Enter a Messenger. ^note

Arch.
Here comes a messenger. What news? ^{note note}

Mess. ^note
Such news, my lord, as grieves me to unfold ^note.

Q. Eliz.
How fares ^note the prince?

Mess.
Well, madam, and in health.

Duch.
What is thy news then? ^note

Mess.
Lord Rivers and Lord Grey are sent to Pomfret,
With them Sir Thomas Vaughan, prisoners ^{note note}.

Duch.
Who hath committed them?

Mess.
The mighty dukes
Gloucester ^note and Buckingham. ^note

Q. Eliz. ^note
For what offence?

Mess.
The sum of all I can, I have disclosed;
Why or for what ^note these ^note nobles were committed
Is all unknown to me, my gracious lady ^note.

Q. Eliz.
Ay ^note me, I see the downfall ^note of our ^note house!
The tiger now hath seized ^note the gentle hind;
Insulting tyranny begins to jet ^note
Upon the innocent and aweless ^note throne:
Welcome, destruction, death ^note, 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 ^note up and down my sons were toss'd,

For me to joy and weep their ^note gain and loss:
And being seated, and domestic broils
Clean over-blown, themselves ^note, the conquerors,
Make war upon themselves; blood against blood,
Self ^note against self: O, preposterous ^note
And frantic outrage ^note, end thy ^note damned spleen;
Or let me die, to look on death ^note no more!

Q. Eliz.
Come, come, my boy; we will to sanctuary.
Madam, farewell ^note.

Duch.
I'll go along ^note with you. ^note

Q. Eliz.
You have no cause.

Arch.
My gracious lady, go;
And thither ^note bear ^note your treasure and your goods.
For my part, I'll resign unto your grace
The seal I keep: and so betide to me ^note
As well I tender you and all of yours!
Come ^note, I'll conduct you to the sanctuary. [Exeunt.

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