K. Edw.
Why so; now have I done a good day's work.
You Peers continue this united League:
I every day expect an Embassage
From my Redeemer, to redeem me hence.
And more in peace my Soul shall part to Heav'n,
Since I have made my Friends at peace on Earth;
Hastings and Rivers, take each others hand,
Dissemble not your Hatred, swear your Love.

Riv.
By Heav'n, my Soul is purg'd from bearing Hate,
And with my Hand I seal my true Heart's Love.

Hast.
So thrive I, as I truly swear the like.

K. Edw.
Take heed you dally not before your King,
Lest he, that is the supream King of Kings,
Confound your hidden falshood, and award
Either of you to be the others end.

Hast.
So prosper I, as I swear perfect Love.

Riv.
And I, as I love Hastings with my Heart.

K. Edw.
Madam, your self is not exempt from this;
Nor you Son 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.

Queen.
There Hastings, I will never more remember
Our former hatred, so thrive I, and mine.

K. Edw.
Dorset, embrace him:
Hastings, love Lord Marquess.

Dors.
This interchange of Love, I here protest
Upon my part, shall be inviolable.

Hast.
And so swear I.

K. Edw.
Now Princely Buckingham, seal thou this League
With thy embracements to my Wife's Allies,
And make me happy in your unity.

Buck.
When ever Buckingham doth turn his hate
Upon your Grace, but with all duteous Love, [To the Queen.
Doth cherish you and yours, God punish me
With hate in those where I expect most love:
When I have most need to imploy a Friend,
And most assured that he is a Friend,
Deep, hollow, treacherous, and full of guile,
Be he unto me; this do I beg of Heav'n,
When I am cold in love, to you or yours. [Embracing Rivers, &c.

K. Edw.
A pleasing Cordial, Princely Buckingham,
Is this thy Vow unto my sickly Heart.
There wanteth now our Brother Glo'ster here,
To make the blessed Period of this Peace.

Buck.
And in good time,
Here comes Sir Richard Ratcliff, and the Duke. Enter Ratcliff and Gloucester.

Glo.
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:
Glo'ster, we have done deeds of Charity,
Made Peace of Enmity, fair love of hate,
Between these swelling wrong incensed Peers.

Glo.
A blessed Labour, my most Sovereign Lord:
Among this Princely heap, if any here
By false Intelligence, or wrong Surmise
Hold me a Foe: If I unwillingly, or in my Rage,
Have ought committed that is hardly born,
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 Mens love.
First, Madam, I intreat true peace of you,
Which I will purchase with my duteous Service.
Of you my noble Cousin Buckingham,
If ever any grudge were lodg'd between us.
Of you, and you, Lord Rivers and of Dorset,
That all without desert have frown'd on me:
Of you Lord Woodvil, and Lord Scales 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 to night;
I thank my God for my Humility.

Queen.
A Holy-day shall this be kept hereafter:
I would to God all strifes were well compounded.
My Sovereign Lord, I do beseech your Highness
To take our Brother Clarence to your Grace.

Glo.
Why, Madam, have I offer'd Love for this,
To be so flouted in this Royal Presence?
Who knows not that the gentle Duke is dead? [They all start.
You do him injury to scorn his Coarse.

K. Edw.
Who knows not he is dead!
Who knows he is?

Queen.
All-seeing Heav'n, what a World is this?

Buck.
Look I so pale, Lord Dorset, as the rest?

Dors.
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 bare the Countermand,
That come too lag to see him buried.
God grant, that some less Noble, and less Loyal,
Nearer in bloody Thoughts, and not in Blood,
Deserve no worse than wretched Clarence did,
And yet go currant from suspicion. Enter Earl of Derby.

Derby.
A boon, my Soveraign, for my Service done.

K. Edw.
I prithee peace, my Soul is full of sorrow.

Derby.
I will not rise, unless your Highness hear me.

K. Edw.
Then say at once, what is it thou request'st.

Derby.
The forfeit, Soveraign, 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 bid me be advis'd?
Who spoke of Brotherhood? who spoke in 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 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 lap me
Even in his Garments, and did give himself,
All thin and naked, to the num cold Night?
All this from my Remembrance, brutish wrath
Sinfully pluckt, 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 it you.
But for my Brother, not a Man would speak,
Nor I, ungracious, spake unto my self
For him, poor Soul. The proudest of you all,
Have been beholding 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 you; and mine, and yours for this.
Come Hastings help me to my Closet.
Ah poor Clarence. [Exeunt some with the King and Queen.

Glo.
This is the fruits of Rashness: Mark'd you not,
How that the kindred of the Queen

Look'd pale, when they did hear of Clarence's 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. Enter the Dutchess of York, with the two Children of Clarence.

Son.
Good Grandam tell us, is our Father dead?

Dutch.
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, Castaways,
If that our Noble Father were alive?

Dutch.
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 you conclude, my Grandam, he is dead:
The King mine Uncle is to blame for it.
God will revenge it, whom I will importune
With earnest Prayers, all to that effect.

Daugh.
And so will I.

Dutch.
Peace, Children, peace; the King doth love you well.
Incapable and shallow Innocents,
You cannot guess who caus'd your Father's Death.

Son.
Grandam, we can; for my good Uncle Glo'ster
Told me, the King, provok'd to it by the Queen,
Devis'd Impeachments to imprison him;
And when my Uncle told me so, he wept,
And pitied me, and kindly kist my Cheek;
Bad me rely on him, as on my Father,
And he would love me dearly as a Child.

Dutch.
Ah! that Deceit should steal such gentle Shape,
And with a virtuous Vizard 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, Grandam?

Dutch.
Ay, Boy.

Son.
I cannot think it. Hark, what noise is this? Enter the Queen with her Hair about her Ears, Rivers and Dorset after her.

Queen.
Ah! who shall hinder me to wail and weep?
To chide my Fortune and torment my self?
I'll join with black Despair against my Soul,
And to my self become an Enemy—

Dutch.
What means this Scene of rude Impatience?

Queen.
To make an act of Tragick 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 ne'er changing Night.

Dutch.
Ah, so much interest have I in thy Sorrow,
As I had Title to thy Noble Husband;
I have bewept a worthy Husband's Death,
And liv'd with 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;
But Death hath snatch'd my Husband from mine Arms,
And pluckt two Crutches from my feeble Hands,
Clarence and Edward. O, what cause have I,
(Thine being but a moiety of my moan)
To over-go thy Woes, 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.

Queen.
Give me no help in Lamentation,
I am not barren to bring forth Complaints:
All Springs reduce their currents to mine Eyes,
That I being govern'd by the watry 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 Clarence.

Dutch.
Alas, for both, both mine, Edward and Clarence.

Queen.
What stay had I, but Edward? and he's gone.

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

Dutch.
What stays had I, but they? and they are gone.

Queen.
Was never Widow had so dear a Loss.

Chil.
Were never Orphans had so dear a Loss.

Dutch.
Was never Mother had so dear a Loss.
Alas! I am the Mother of these Griefs,
Their Woes are parcell'd, mine is general.
She for an Edward weeps, and so do I;
I for a Clarence weep, so doth not she;
These Babes for Clarence weep, so do not they.
Alas! you three, on me threefold distrest
Pour all your Tears, I am your Sorrows Nurse,
And I will pamper it with Lamentation.

Dors.
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 Heav'n,
For it requires the Royal Debt it lent you.

Rivers.
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 Gloucester, Buckingham, Derby, Hastings and Ratcliff.

Glo.
Sister, have comfort, all of us have cause
To wail the dimming of our shining Star:
But none can help our 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.

Dutch.
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;
I marvel that her Grace did leave it out.

Buck.
You cloudy Princes, and heart-sorrowing Peers,
That bear this mutual heavy load of Moan,
Now cheer each other in each others Love;
Though we have spent our Harvest of this King,
We are to reap the Harvest of his Son.
The broken rancor of your high-swoln hates,
But lately splinter'd, knit and join'd together,
Must gently be preserv'd, cherisht and kept:
Me seemeth good, that with some little Train,
Forthwith from Ludlow the young Prince be set
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 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.

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 likelyhood 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 streight shall post to London.
Madam, and you my Sister, will you go
To give your Censures in this Business? [Exeunt. [Manent Buckingham and Gloucester.

Buck.
My Lord, whoever journies to the Prince,
For God's sake let not us two stay at home;
For by the way, I'll sort occasion,

As Index to the Story we lately 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.
Toward London then, for we'll not stay behind. [Exeunt. SCENE III. Enter one Citizen at one Door, and another at the other.

1 Cit.
Good morrow, Neighbour, whither away so fast?

2 Cit.
I promise you I hardly know my self:
Hear you the News abroad?

1 Cit.
Yes, the King is dead.

2 Cit.
Ill News by'r Lady, seldom comes the better:
I fear, I fear, 'twill prove a giddy World. Enter another Citizen.

3 Cit.
Neighbours, God speed.

1 Cit.
Give you good morrow, Sir.

3 Cit.
Doth the News hold of good King Edward's Death?

2 Cit.
Ay, Sir, it is too true, God help the while.

3 Cit.
Then Masters look to see a troublous World.

1 Cit.
No, no, by God's good Grace, his Son shall Reign.

3 Cit.
Wo to that Land that's govern'd by a Child.

2 Cit.
In him there is a hope of Government:
Which in his Non-age, Counsel under him,
And in his full and ripened Years, himself
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;
For then this Land was famously enrich'd
With politick 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, who shall now be nearest,
Will touch us all too near, if God prevent not.
O full of danger is the Duke of Glo'ster,

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.
Come, 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 reason, 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 Mens Minds mistrust
Pursuing 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. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. Enter Archbishop of York, the young Duke of York, the Queen, and the Dutchess.

Arch.
Last Night I heard they lay at Stony Stratford,
And at Northampton they do rest to Night:
To morrow or next day they will be here.

Dutch.
I long with all my Heart to see the Prince;
I hope he is much grown since last I saw him.

Queen.
But I hear no, they say my Son of York
Has almost overtaken him in his growth.

York.
Ay, Mother, but I would not have it so.

Dutch.
Why, my good 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 Glo'ster,
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 make haste.

Dutch.
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 his Rule were true, he should be gracious.

York.
And so no doubt he is, my gracious Madam.

Dutch.
I hope he is, but yet let Mothers doubt.

York.
Now by my troth, if I had been remembred,
I could have given my Uncle's Grace a flout
To touch his growth, nearer than he touch'd mine.

Dutch.
How, my young York,
I prithee let me hear it.

York.
Marry, they say, my Uncle grew so fast,
That he could gnaw a Crust at two hours old;
'Twas full two years e'er I could get a Tooth.
Grandam, this would have been a biting Jest.

Dutch.
I prithee, pretty York, who told thee this?

York.
Grandam, his Nurse.

Dutch.
His Nurse! why she was dead e'er thou wast born.

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

Queen.
A parlous Boy—Go to, you are too shrewd.

Dutch.
Good Madam, be not angry with a Child.

Queen.
Pitchers have Ears. Enter a Messenger.

Arch.
Here comes a Messenger: What News?

Mes.
Such News, my Lord, as grieves me to report.

Queen.
How doth the Prince?

Mes.
Well, Madam, and in Health.

Dutch.
What is thy News?

Mes.
Lord Rivers, and Lord Grey,
Are sent to Pomfret, and with them
Sir Thomas Vaughan, Prisoners.

Dutch.
Who hath committed them?

Mes.
The mighty Dukes, Glo'ster and Buckingham.

Arch.
For what Offence?

Mes.
The sum of all I can, I have disclos'd:
Why, or for what, the Nobles were committed,
Is all unknown to me, my gracious Lord.

Queen.
Ah me! I see the ruin of my House;
The Tiger now hath seiz'd the gentle Hind.
Insulting Tyranny begins to jut

Upon the innocent and awless Throne;
Welcome Destruction, Blood and Massacre,
I see, as in a Map, the end of all.

Dutch.
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 Domestick broils
Clean over blown, themselves, the Conquerors,
Make War upon themselves, Brother to Brother,
Blood to Blood, self against self: O prepost'rous
And frantick Outrage! end thy damned Spleen,
Or let me die, to look on Earth no more.

Queen.
Come, come, my Boy, we will to Sanctuary.
Madam, farewel.

Dutch.
Stay, I will go with you.

Queen.
You have no cause.

Arch.
My gracious Lady, go,
And thither bear your Treasure and your Goods,
For my part, I'll resign unto your Grace
The Seal I keep, and so betide it me,
As well I tender you, and all of yours.
Go, I'll conduct you to the Sanctuary. [Exeunt.

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