Who knows not, that the gentle duke is dead?
[They all fart.
You do him injury, to fcorn his corfe.
K. Edw. Who knows not, he is dead! who knows,

he is?

Queen. All-feeing heaven, what a world is this! Buck. Look I fo pale, lord Dorfet, as the reft? Dor. Ay, my good lord; and no man in the prefence, But his red colour hath forfook 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 bore the countermand", That came too lag to fee him buried :God grant, that fome, lefs noble, and lefs loyal, Nearer in bloody thoughts, and not in blood, Deserve not worse than wretched Clarence did, And yet go current from suspicion !

Enter Lord Stanley.

Stan. A boon, my fovereign, for my fervice done! K. Edw. I pr'ythee, peace; my foul is full of for

row.

Stan. I will not rife, unless your highnefs hear me. K. Edw. Then fay at once, what is it thou request'ft. Stan. The forfeit, fovereign, of my fervant's life; Who flew to-day a riotous gentleman,

8

Lately attendant on the duke of Norfolk.

K. Edw. Have I a tongue to doom my brother's death,

And

-fome tardy cripple &c.] This is an allufion to a proverbial expreffion which Drayton has verfified in the fecond canto of the Baron's Wars:

"Ill news hath wings, and with the wind dath go; "Comfort's a cripple, and comes ever flow." STEEVENS, The forfeit] He means the remiffion of the farfeit.

JOHNSON,

• Have I a tongue to doom my brother's death?] This lamentation

And shall that tongue give pardon to a flave?
My brother kill'd no man, his fault was thought,
And yet his punishment was bitter death.
Who fu'd to me for him? who, in my wrath,
Kneel'd at my feet, and bid me be advis'd?
Who fpoke of brotherhood? who spoke of love
Who told me, how the poor foul did forfake
The mighty Warwick, and did fight for me?
Who told me, in the field at Tewksbury,
When Oxford had me down, he refcu'd me,
And faid, Dear brother, live, and be a king?
Who told me, when we both lay in the field,
Frozen almoft 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 fo much grace to put it in my mind.
But, when your carters, or your waiting vaffals,
Have done a drunken flaughter, and defac'd
The precious image of our dear Redeemer,
You ftraight are on your knees for pardon, pardon;
And I, unjustly too, muft grant it you

But for my brother, not a man would speak,-
Nor I (ungracious) fpeak unto myself
For him, poor foul. The proudest of you all
Have been beholden to him in his life;
Yet none of you would once plead for his life.-
O God! I fear, thy juftice will take hold

On me, and you, and mine, and yours, for this.-
Come, Haftings, help me to my closet. Oh,
Poor Clarence!

[Exeunt King and Queen, Haftings, Rivers, Dorfet, and Grey. Glo. Thefe are the fruits of rafhness!-Mark'd

you not,

is very tender and pathetick. The recollection of the good qualities of the dead is very natural, and no lefs naturally does the king endeavour to communicate the crime to others. JOHNSON,

How

How that the guilty kindred of the

queen Look'd pale, when they did hear of Clarence' death? O! they did urge it ftill 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.

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 fo oft? and beat your

breaft?

And cry,-O Clarence, my unhappy fon!

Son. Why do you look on us, and fhake your head, And call us-orphans, wretches, caft-aways, If that our noble father be alive?

Dutch. My pretty coufins, you mistake me both; I do lament the fickness of the king,

As loth to lose him, not your father's death;

It were loft forrow, to wail one that's loft.

Son. Then, grandam, you conclude that he is dead. The king mine uncle is to blame for this: God will revenge it; whom I will importune With earnest prayers, all to that effect. Daugh. And fo will I.

Dutch. Peace, children, peace! the king doth love you well:

Incapable and fhallow innocents,

You cannot guefs who caus'd your father's death. Son. Grandam, we can: for my good uncle Glofter Told me, the king, provok'd to't by the queen,

E-4

De

Devis'd impeachments to imprison him :
And when my uncle told me fo, he wept,
And pitied me, and kindly kifs'd my cheek
Bade me rely on him, as on my father,
And he would love me dearly as his child.
Dutch. Ah, that deceit fhould steal fuch gentle
fhapes, eng

And with a virtuous vizor hide, deep vice!
He is my fon, ay, and therein my shame,
Yet from my dugs he drew not this deceit.

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

Dutch. Ay, boy.

Son. I cannot think it. Hark! what noife is this?

Enter the Queen, distractedly; Rivers, and Dorset, after ber....

t

Queen. Ah! who fhall hinder me to wail and weep? To chide my fortune, and torment myself? I'll join with black defpair against my foul, And to myself become an enemy.

Dutch. What means this fcene of rude impatience? Queen. To make an act of tragic violence :Edward, my lord, thy fon, our king, is dead. Why grow the branches, when the root is gone? Why wither not the leaves, that want their fap ?If you will live, lament; if die, be brief; That our fwift-winged fouls may catch the king's; Or, like obedient fubjects, follow him To his new kingdom of perpetual reft.

Dutch. Ah, fo much intereft have I in thy forrow, As I had title in thy noble husband !

I have bewept a worthy hufband's death,

And liv'd by looking on his images:

But now, two mirrors of his princely femblance

his images] The children by whom he was repre fented. JOHNSON.

Are crack'd in pieces by malignant death;
And I for comfort have but one falfe glass,
That grieves me when I fee my fhame in him.
Thou art a widow; yet thou art a mother,
And haft the comfort of thy children left thee:
But death hath fnatch'd my husband from mine 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! [To the Queen.] 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,

2

I am not barren to bring forth laments :
All fprings reduce their currents to mine eyes,
That I, being govern'd by the watry moon,
May fend 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 ftay had I, but Edward? and he's gone.

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

gone.

Dutch. What ftays had I, but they? and they are

gone.

Queen. Was never widow, had fo dear a lofs. Chil. Were never orphans, had fo dear a loss. Dutch. Was never mother, had fo dear a loss. Alas! I am the mother of thefe griefs;

2 being govern'd by the watry moon,] That I may live hereafter under the influence of the moon, which governs the tides, and by the help of that influence drown the world. The introduction of the moon is not very natural. JOHNSON.