The king, my uncle, is to blame for this:
God will revenge it; whom I will importune
With earnest prayers all to that effect.
Daugh. And so will 1.

[you well: Duch. Peace, children, peace! the king doth love 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 the queen,
Devis'd impeachments to imprison him:
And when my uncle told me so, he wept,
And pitied me, and kindly kiss'd my cheek;
Bade me rely on him, as on my father,
And he would love me dearly as his child.

Duck. Ah, that deceit should steal such gentle
And with a virtuous vizor hide deep vice! [shapes,
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?
Duch. Ay, boy.
Son. I cannot think it. Hark! what noise is this?
Enter Queen Elizabeth, distractedly; Rivers and
Dorset following her.

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

Duch. What means this scene of rude impatience?
Q. Eliz. To make an act 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 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 perpetual rest.

Duch. Ah, so much interest have I in thy sorrow,
As I had title in thy noble husband!

I have bewept a worthy husband's death,
And liv'd by 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 thee:
But death hath snatch'd my husband from my arms,
And pluck'd two crutches from my feeble hands,
Clarence and Edward. O, what cause have I
(Thine being but a moiety of my grief),
To over-go thy plaints, 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!

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

gone.

Chil. Ah, for our father, for our dear lord Clarence !
Duch. Alas, for both, both mine, Edward and Cla-
rence!
[gone.
Q. Eliz. What stay had I, but Edward? and he's
Chil. What stay had we, but Clarence? and he's
[gone.
Duch. What stays had I, but they? and they are
Q. Eliz. Was never widow, had so dear a loss.
Chil. Were never orphans, had so dear a loss.
Duch. Was never mother had so dear a loss.
Alas! I am the mother of these griefs;
Their woes are parcell'd, mine are general.
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 distress'd,
Pour all your tears, I am your sorrow's nurse,
And I will pamper it with lamentations. [pleas'd,
Dor. Comfort, dear mother: God is much dis-
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 Gloster, Buckingham, Stanley, Hastings,
Ratcliff, and others.

Glo. Sister, have comfort: all of us have cause
To wail the dimming of our shining star;
Madam, my mother, I do cry you mercy,
But none can cure their harms by wailing them.-

I did not see your grace :-Humbly on my knee
I crave your blessing.
[breast,
Duch. God bless thee; and put meekness in thy
Love, charity, obedience, and true duty!
Glo. Amen; and make me die a good old man!-
I marvel, that her grace did leave it ont.
That is the butt-end of a mother's blessing;

[Aside.
Buck. You cloudy princes, and heart-sorrowing
That bear this mutual heavy load of moan, [peers,
Though we have spent our harvest of this king,
Now cheer each other in each other's love:
We are to reap the harvest of his son.
The broken rancour of your high-swoln hearts,
But lately splinted, knit, and join'd together,
Must gently be preserv'd, cherish'd, and kept:
Forthwith from Ludlow the young prince be fetch'd
Me seemeth good, that, with some little train,
Hither to London, to be crown'd our king.

Riv. Why, with some little train, my lord of Buck-
ingham ?

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 likelihood 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 straight shall post to Ludlow.
Madam, and you, my mother, will you go
To give your censures in this weighty business?

[Exeunt all but Buckingham and Gloster.
Buck. My lord, whoever journeys 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 late 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 1-My dear cousin,
I, as a child, will go by thy direction.
Towards Ludlow then, for we'll not stay behind.
[Exeunt.

SCENE III. The same. A Street.

Enter two Citizens, meeting.

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

Hear you the news abroad?
2 Cit. I promise you, I scarcely know myself:

1 Cit.

Yes; the king's dead.

2 Cit. Il 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. Woe to that land, that's govern'd by a child! 2 Cit. In him there is a hope of government; That, in his nonage, council under him, And, in his full and ripen'd 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
For then this land was famously enrich'd [wot;
With politic 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 now, who shall be nearest,
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 and proud:
And were they to be rul'd, and not to rule,
This sickly land might solace as before.

[well. 1 Cit. Come, come, we fear the worst; all will be 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, men's minds mistrust
Ensuing danger; as, by proof, we see
The water swell before a boistrous 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. The same. A Room in the Palace. Enter the Archbishop of York, the young Duke of York, Queen Elizabeth, and the Duchess of York."

Arch. Last night, I heard, they lay at Stony-Strat-
And at Northampton they do rest to-night: [ford;
To-morrow, or next day, they will be here.

Duch. I long with all my heart to see the prince;
I hope, he is much grown since last I saw him.
Q. Eliz. But I hear, no; they say, my son of York
Hath almost over-ta'en him in his growth.
York. Ay, mother, but I would not have it so.
Duch. Why, my young 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 Gloster,
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.
hold
Duch. Good faith, good faith, the saying did not
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.

Arch. And so, no doubt, he is, my gracious madam.
Duch. I hope he is; 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.
Duch. How, my young York? I pr'ythee, 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 ere I could get a tooth.
Grandam, this would have been a biting jest.
Duch. I pr'ythee, pretty York, who told thee this?
York. Grandam, his nurse.
[born.

Duch. His nurse! why, she was dead ere thou wast
York. If 'twere not she, I cannot tell who told me.
Q. Eliz. A parlous boy:-Goto, you are too shrewd.
Arch. Good madam, be not angry with the child.
Q. Eliz. Pitchers have ears.

Arch.

What news?

Mess.

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.

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 up and down my sons were tost,
For me to joy, and weep, their gain, and loss:
And being seated, and domestic broils
Clean over-blown, themselves, the conquerors,
Make war upon themselves; brother to brother,
Blood to blood, self 'gainst self:-O, preposterous
And frantic courage, end thy damned spleen:
Or let me die, to look on death no more!

Q. Eliz. Come, come, my boy, we will to sanc-
Madam, farewell.
[tuary.-

Duch.

Stay, I will go with you.
Q. Eliz. You have no cause.
Arch.

My gracious lady, go.
[To the Queen.

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,
As well I tender you, and all of yours!
Come, I'll conduct you to the sauctuary.

ACT III.

SCENE I. The same. A Street.

[Exeunt.

The Trumpets sound. Enter the Prince of Wales,
Gloster, Buckingham, Cardinal Bourchier, and

others.

Glo. Welcome, dear cousin, my thoughts' sovereign: The weary way hath made you melancholy.

[years

Prince. No, uncle; but our crosses on the way
Have made it tedious, wearisome, and heavy :
I want more uncles here to welcome me.
Glo. Sweet prince, the untainted virtue of your
Hath not yet div'd into the world's deceit :
No more can you distinguish of a man,
Than of his outward show; which, God he knows,
Seldom, or never, jumpeth with the heart.
Those uncles, which you want, were dangerous;
Your grace attended to their sugar'd words,
But look'd not on the poison of their hearts:
God keep you from them, and from such false friends!
Prince. God keep me from false friends! but they
[you,

were none.

Buck. And, in good time, here comes the sweating
lord.
[come?
Prince. Welcome, my lord: What, will our mother
Hast. On what occasion, God he knows, not 1,
The queen your mother, and your brother York,
Have taken sanctuary: The tender prince
Would fain have come with me to meet your grace,
But by his mother was perforce withheld.

Enter a Messenger.
Buck. Fie! what an indirect and peevish course
Here comes a messenger: Is this of hers!-Lord cardinal, will your grace
Persuade the queen to send the duke of York
Unto his princely brother presently?

Such news, my lord,
As grieves me to unfold.
Q. Eliz.

How doth the prince?
Mess. Well, madam, and in health.
Duch.
What is thy news?
Mess. Lord Rivers, and lord Grey, are sent to Pom-
With them sir Thomas Vaughan, prisoners. [fret,
Duch. Who hath committed them?
Mess.

Gloster and Buckingham.

The mighty dukes,
Q. Eliz.
For what offence?
Mess. 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 lady.

Q. Eliz. Ah me, I see the ruin of my house!

If she deny,-lord Hastings, go with him,
And from her jealous arms pluck him perforce.
Card. My lord of Buckingham, if my weak oratory
Can from his mother win the duke of York,
Anon expect him here: But if she be obdurate
To mild entreaties, God in heaven forbid
We should infringe the holy privilege
Of blessed sanctuary! not for all this land,
Would I be guilty of so deep a sin.

Buck. You are too senseless-obstinate, my lord,
Too ceremonions, and traditional :
Weigh it but with the grossness of this
You break not sanctuary in seizing him.
The benefit thereof is always granted

sage,