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Be he unto me! this do I beg of heaven,
[Embracing Rivers, &c.
Enter GLOSTER. 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
Glo. A blessed labour, my most sovereign liege.--Among this princely heap, if
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, lord Rivers,—and lord Grey, of you,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,
Q. Eliz. A holy-day shall this be kept hereafter:-
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 corse. K. Edw. Who knows not, he is dead! who knows
he is? 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 man in the pre
sence, But his red colour hath forsook his cheeks. K. Edw. Is Clarence dead ? the order was re
vers'd. Glo. But he, poor man, by your first order died, And that a winged Mercury did bear; Some tardy cripple bore the countermand, That came too lag to see him buried :God grant, that some, less noble, and less loyal, Nearer in bloody thoughts, and not in blood, Deserve not worse than wretched Clarence did,
rrent from suspicion!
Enter STANLEY. Stan. A boon, my sovereign, for my service done! K. Edw. I pr’ythee, peace; my soul is full of Stan. I will not rise, unless your highness hear me. K. Edw. Then say at once, what is it thou re
And yet go
Slan. The forfeit, sovereign, of my servant's life; Who slew to-day a riotous gentleman, Lately attendant on the duke of Norfolk.
K.Edw.Havelatongue todoom 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, Kneelid at my feet, and bade me be advis’d? Who spoke 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, 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 me Even in his garments; 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 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) speak unto myself For him, poor soul. The proudest of you all Have been beholden to hiin in his life; Yet none of you would once plead for his life.
* The forfeit,] He means the remission of the forfeit.
* Hare I a tongue to doom my brother's death,] This lamenta. tion is very tender and pathetick. The recollection of the good qualities of the dead is very natural, and no less naturally does the King endeavour to communicate the crime to others.
O God! I fear, thy justice will take hold
[Exeunt King, Queen, Hastings, Rivers,
Dorset, and GREY. . Glo. This is the fruit of rashness !—Mark'd you
not, How that the guilty 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, lords; will you go, To comfort Edward with our company? Buck. We wait upon your grace.
Enter the Duchess of York, with a Son and Daughter
of Clarence. Son. Good grandam, tell us, is our father dead? Duch. 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, cast-aways, If that our noble father be alive?
Duch. My pretty cousins, you mistake me both; I do lament the sickness of the king,
my pretty cousins,] The Duchess is here addressing her grand-children, but cousin was the term used in Shakspeare's time, by uncles to nephews and nieces, grandfathers to grandchildren, &c. Ji seems to have been used instead of our kinsman, and kinswoman, and to have supplied the place of both.
As loath to lose him, not your father's death;
Son. Then, grandam, you conclude that he is dead.
Daugh. And so will I.
Incapable and shallow innocents,
Son. Grandam, we can: for my good uncle Gloster
Son. Think you, my uncle did dissemble, grandam?
Enter Queen ELIZABETH, distractedly; Rivers, and
Dorset following her.
Duch. What means this scene of rude impatience?
Incapable and shallow innocents,]' Incapable is unintelligent.