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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 mine arms, And pluck'd two crutches from my feeble hands, Clarence, and Edward. O, what cause have 1, (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,
dear lord Edward ! Child. Ah, for our father, for our dear lord Cla
rence ! Duch. Alas, for both, both mine, Edward and ClaQ. Eliz. What stay had I, but Edward ? and he's
gone. Child. What stay bad we, but Clarence ? and he's
gone. Duch. What stays had I, but they? and they are
gone. Q. Eliz. Was never widow, had so dear a loss. Child. 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, Dor. Confort, dear mother; God is much dis
you take with unthankfulness his doing :
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,
INGS, RATCLIFF, and Others,
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; [Aside. 1 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 other's love : Though we have spent our harvest of this king, 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 : Me seemeth good, that, with some little train, 12 Forthwith from Ludlow the young prince be fetch'd 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!-My dear cousin,
The Same. A Street.
Enter two Citizens, meeting. i Cit. Good morrow, neighbour: Whither away so
fast? 2 Cit. I promise you, I scarcely know myself : Hear you the news abroad?
Yes; the king's 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 ! i 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. i 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,