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

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

Has.
So thrive I, as I truly ^note swear the like!

K. E.
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 other's end.

Has.
So prosper I, as I swear perfect love!

Riv.
And I, as I love Hastings with my heart!

K. E.
Madam, yourself are not not 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 in unfeignedly.

Que.
There ^note, † Hastings; I will never more remember
Our former hatred, So thrive I, and mine!

K. E.
Dorset, embrace him;—Hastings, love lord marquiss. ^note

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

Has.
And so swear I ^note. [they embrace.

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

Buc.
Whenever Buckingham doth turn his hate
Upon your ^note grace, [to the Que.] but with all duteous ^note 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 me! this do I beg of heaven, ^note
When I am cold in love, to ^note you, or yours. [embracing Rivers, &c.

K. E.
A pleasing cordial, princely Buckingham,

Is this thy vow unto my sickly heart.
There wanteth now our brother Gloster here,
To make the blessed period ^note of this peace.

Buc.
And, in good time, ^note here comes the noble duke. Enter Richard.

Ric.
Good morrow to my sovereign king, and queen;
And, princely peers, a happy time of day!

K. E.
Happy, indeed, as we have spent the day:—
Gloster, we ^note have done deeds of charity;
Made peace of enmity, fair love of hate,
Between these swelling wrong-incensed peers.

Ric.
A blessed labour, my ^note most sovereign liege.—
Among ^note this princely heap, if any here,
By false intelligence, or wrong surmise,
Hold me a foe; if I unwittingly ^note14Q0872
Have ought ^note committed that is hardly born
By any ^note 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, 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 lodg'd between us;—
Of you, lord ^note Rivers,—and, lord Grey, of you,
That all without desert have frown'd on me; ^note—
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.

Que.
A holy-day shall this be kept hereafter:—

I would to God, all strifes ^note were well compounded.—
My sovereign lord, I do beseech your highness ^note
To take our brother Clarence to your grace.

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

K. E.
Who knows not, he is dead! who knows, he is? ^note

Que.
All-seeing heaven, what a world is this!

Buc.
Look I so pale, lord Dorset, as the rest?

Dor.
Ay, my good lord; and no man in ^note the presence ^note,
But his red colour hath forsook his cheeks.

K. E.
Is Clarence dead? the order was revers'd.

Ric.
But he, poor man, by ^note your first order dy'd,
And that a winged 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, and not ^note in blood,
Deserve not worse than wretched Clarence did,
And yet go current from suspicion! Enter Stanley, hastily.

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

K. E.
I pr'ythee ^note, peace; my soul is full of sorrow.

Sta.
I will not rise, unless your highness hear ^note me.

K. E.
Then say at ^note once, what is it thou request'st ^{note note}.

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

K. E.
Have I a tongue to doom my brother's death,
And shall that tongue give ^note pardon to a slave?

My brother kill'd no ^note man, his fault was thought,
And yet his punishment was bitter death ^note.
Who su'd to me for him? who, in my wrath, ^note
Kneel'd at my feet, and bid ^note me be advis'd?
Who spoke ^note of brotherhood? who spoke of 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 ^note,
When Oxford had me down, he rescu'd 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 ^note me
Even in his garments ^note; and did give himself,
All thin and naked, 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 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 ^note would speak,—
Nor I (ungracious) speak unto myself
For him, poor soul.—The proudest of you all
Have been beholden ^note to him in his life;
Yet none of you would once beg for ^note his life:—
O God! I fear, thy justice will take hold
On me, and you, and mine, and yours, for this.—
Come, [to Hast.] help ^note me to my closet.—O poor ^note Clarence! [Exeunt King, Queen, Has. Riv. Dor. and Grey.

Ric.
This is the fruit ^note of rashness! ^note—Mark'd you ^note not,

How that the guilty ^note kindred of the queen
Look'd pale, when they did hear of Clarence' death?
O! they did urge it still unto the king:
God will revenge it. Come ^note, lords; will you go,
To comfort Edward with our company?

Buc.
We wait upon your grace. ^note [Exeunt. SCENE II. The same. Enter the Dutchess of York; and a Son, and Daughter, of Clarence, her Grand-children.

Son.
Good grandam ^note, tell us, is our father dead?

Dut.
No, boy.

Dau.
Why do you weep so oft? and ^note beat your breast?
And cry, O Clarence, my unhappy son!

Son.
Why do you look on us, and shake your head, ^note
And call us—orphans, wretches, ^note cast-aways,
If that our noble father be ^note alive?

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

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

Dau.
And so will I. ^note

Dut.
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 Gloster
Told me, the king, provok'd to't by ^note the queen,
Devis'd impeachments to imprison him:

And when my uncle told ^note me so, he wept,
And pity'd me, and ^note kindly kiss'd my cheek;
Bad ^note me rely on him, as on my father,
And he would love me dearly as his child ^note.

Dut.
Ah, that deceit should steal such gentle shapes ^note,
And with a virtuous vizard hide deep vice ^note?
He is my son, ay, and ^note therein my shame,
Yet from my dugs he drew not this deceit.

Son.
Think you, my uncle did dissemble, grandam?

Dut.
Ay, boy.

Son.
I cannot think it. Hark! what noise is this? Enter the Queen, distractedly; Rivers, and Dorset, after her.

Que.
Ah ^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.

Dut.
What means this scene of rude impatience?

Que.
To make an act of tragic violence:
Edward, my lord, thy son ^note, our king, is dead.—
Why grow the branches, when the root is gone? ^note
Why wither not the leaves, that want their sap? ^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

Dut.
Ah, so much interest have I ^note in thy sorrow,
As I had title in thy ^note noble husband!
I have bewept a worthy husband's death,
And liv'd by looking ^note 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,
That grieves ^note 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 from ^note mine arms,
And pluck'd two crutches from my feeble hands, ^note
Edward, and Clarence ^note; O, what cause have I,
(Thine being but a moiety ^note of my grief ^note)
To overgo thy plaints ^note, and drown thy cries?

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

Dau.
Our fatherless distress was left unmoan'd,
Your widow dolour ^note likewise be unwept.

Que.
Give me no help in lamentation,
I am not barren to bring forth laments ^note:
All springs reduce their currents to mine eyes,
That I, being govern'd by the wat'ry moon ^note,
May bring forth plenteous tears to drown the world!
Ah ^note, for my husband, for my dear lord Edward!

Chi.
Ah ^note, for our father, for our dear lord Clarence!

Dut.
Alas, for both, both mine, Edward and Clarence!

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

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

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

Que.
Was never ^note widow, had so dear a loss.

Chi.
Were never ^note orphans, had so dear ^note a loss.

Dut.
Was never mother, had so dear ^note a loss.
Alas, I am the mother of these griefs ^note;
Their woes are parcel'd, mine is general ^note.
She for an ^note Edward weeps,14Q0873 and so do I;
I for a Clarence weep ^note, so doth not she:
These babes for Clarence weep, and so do I; ^note

I for an Edward weep, so do not they ^note:— ^note
Alas! you three, on me, threefold distress'd,
Pour all ^note your tears; I am your sorrow's nurse,
And I will pamper it with lamentations ^note.

Dor.
Comfort, dear mother; God is much displeas'd, ^note
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 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. Enter Richard, Hastings, Buckingham, Stanley, and divers Others.

Ric.
Sister, have ^note 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 you; ^note Humbly on my knee
I crave your blessing.

Dut.
God bless thee; and put meekness in thy breast, ^note
Love, charity, obedience, and true duty!

&clquo;Ric.
&clquo;Amen; and ^note make me die ^note a good old man!&crquo;
&clquo;That is the but-end of a mother's ^note blessing;&crquo;
&clquo;I marvel, that her ^note grace did leave it out.&crquo;

Buc.
You cloudy princes, and heart-sorrowing peers,
That bear this mutual heavy ^note load of moan,
Now chear each other in each other's love:

Though we have spent our harvest of this ^note king,
We are to reap the harvest of his son.
The broken rancour of your high-swoln hearts ^note,
But lately splinted ^note, knit, and join'd together,
Must gently ^note be preserv'd, 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

Buc.
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 yet ^note 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.

Ric.
I hope, the king made peace with all of us;
And the compáct is firm, and true, in me.

Has.
And so in me;14Q0874 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 urg'd:
Therefore I say, with noble Buckingham,
That it is meet but few ^note should fetch the prince.

Sta.
And so say I.

Ric.
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 in this weighty ^note business? ^note

&clquo;Buc.
&clquo;My lord, whoever journeys to the prince,&crquo;
&clquo;For God's sake, let not us two stay at home: ^note&crquo;

&clquo;For, by the way, I'll sort occasion,&crquo;
&clquo;As index to the story we late ^note talk'd of,&crquo;
&clquo;To part the queen's proud kindred from the prince. ^note.&crquo;

&clquo;Ric.
&clquo;My other self, my counsel's consistory,&crquo;
&clquo;My oracle, my prophet!—my dear cousin,&crquo;
&clquo;I, as a ^note child, will go by thy direction.&crquo;
&clquo;Towards Ludlow ^note then, for we'll not stay behind.&crquo; [Exeunt; Ric. and Buc. last. SCENE III. The same. A Street. Enter two Citizens, meeting.

1. C.
Good morrow, neighbour: Whither away so fast?

2. C.
I promise you, I hardly ^note know myself:
Hear you the news abroad?

1. C.
Yes, that ^note the king is dead.

2. C.
Ill news ^note, by'r lady; seldom comes a better ^{note note}:
I fear, I fear, 'twill prove a giddy world ^note. Enter another Citizen.

3. C.
Neighbours ^note, God speed!

1. C.
Give you good morrow, sir.

3. C.
Doth the news hold of good king Edward's death?

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

3. C.
Then, masters, look to see a troublous ^note world.

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

3. C.
Woe to that land, that's govern'd by a child!

2. C.
In him there14Q0875 is a hope ^note of government;
That, in ^note his nonage, counsel under him,
And, in his full and ripen'd ^note years, himself,
No doubt, shall then, and 'till then, govern well.

1. C.
So stood the state, when ^note Henry the sixth
Was crown'd in Paris ^note but at nine months old.

3. C.
Stood the state so? no, no, good friends, ^note 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. C.
Why, so hath ^note this, both by his father ^note and mother,

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

1. C.
Come, come, we fear the worst; all will be well. ^note

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

2. C.
Truly, the hearts of ^note men are full of fear:
You cannot reason almost ^note with a man,
That looks not heavily ^note, and full of dread ^note.

3. C.
Before the days of ^note change, still is it so:
By a divine instinct, men's minds mistrust
Ensuing danger; as, by proof, we see
The water ^note swell before a boist'rous storm.
But leave it all to God. Whither away?

2. C.
Marry, we were sent for to the justices. ^note

3. C.
And so was I; I'll bear you company. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. The same. A Room in the Palace. Enter the Archbishop of York, the young Duke of York,

the Queen, and the Dutchess of York.

Arc.
Last night,14Q0876 I hear ^note, they rested at ^note Northampton;
At Stony-stratford they ^note do lye to ^note-night:
To-morrow, or next day, they will be ^note here.

Dut.
I long with all my heart to see the prince;
I hope, he is much grown since last I saw him.

Que.
But I hear, no; they say, my son of York
Hath ^note almost ^note over-ta'en him in his growth ^note.

Yor.
Ay, mother, but I would not have it so.

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

Yor.
Grandam, one night as we did fit ^note at supper,
My uncle Rivers talk'd how I did grow
More than my brother; Ay, quoth my uncle Gloster,
Small herbs 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.

Dut.
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, ^note he should be gracious.

Arc.
And so, no doubt, he is, my gracious madam. ^note

Dut.
I hope, he is; but ^note yet let mothers doubt.

Yor.
Now, by my troth, if I had been remember'd,
I could have giv'n my uncle's grace a flout,
To touch his growth, nearer than he touch'd mine. ^note

Dut.
How, my young York? I pr'ythee ^note, let me hear it.

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

Dut.
I pr'ythee, pretty York, who told thee this? ^note

Yor.
Grandam, his nurse.

Dut.
His nurse! ^note why, she was dead ere thou wast born.

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

Que.
A parlous boy:—Go to, you are ^note too shrewd.

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

Que.
Pitchers have ears. Enter a Messenger. ^note

Arc.
Here comes ^note a messenger.—
What news?

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

Que.
How doth the ^note prince?

Mes.
Well, madam, and in health.

Dut.
What is thy news? ^note

Mes.
Lord Rivers, and lord Grey,
Are sent to Pomfret, prisoners; and ^note, with them,
Sir Thomas Vaughan. ^note

Dut.
Who hath committed them?

Mes.
The mighty dukes, Gloster, and Buckingham.

Arc.
For what offence?

Mes.
The sum of all I can, I have disclos'd;
Why, or for ^note what, the nobles ^note were committed,
Is all unknown to me, my gracious lord. ^note

Que.
Ay me, I see the ruin of my house ^note!
The tyger now hath seiz'd ^note the gentle hind;
Insulting tyranny begins to jut ^note
Upon the innocent and awless ^note throne:—
Welcome, destruction, blood, and ^note massacre!
I see, as in a map, the end of all.

Dut.
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 toss'd,

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

Que.
Come, come, my boy, we will to sanctuary.—
Madam, farewel. ^note

Dut.
Stay, I will go with ^note you.

Que.
You have no cause.

Arc.
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 to me ^note,
As well I tender you, and all of yours!
Come, I'll ^note conduct you to the sanctuary. [Exeunt.

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