SCENE II.-The same. Enter the Duchess of York, with a Son and Son. Good grandam, tell us, is our father dead? Daugh. Why do you weep so oft? and beat your And cry-O Clarence, my unhappy son! Son. Why do you look on us, and shake And call us-orphans, wretches, cast-aways, If that our noble father be alive? [breast; your head, Duch. My pretty cousins,' you mistake me both; I do lament the sickness of the king, As loath to lose him, not your father's death; It were lost sorrow, to wail one that's lost. Son. Then, grandam, you conclude that he is dead. The king my uncle is to blame for this: God will revenge it; whom I will impórtune Duch. Peace, children, peace! the king doth love. Incapable' and shallow innocents, [you well: 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 mc, and kindly kiss'd my cheek; Bade me rely on him, as on my father, And he would love me dearly as his child. Duch. Ah, that deceit should steal such gentle And with a virtuous visor hide deep vice! [shapes The duchess is addressing her grandchildren. The word cousin in Shakspeare's time had a very extensive application. ai. e. unintelligent. He is my son, ay, and therein my shame, 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 hinder 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? That our swift-winged souls may catch the king's; 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, But now, two mirrors of his princely semblance i. e. the children by whom he was represented. 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: Ah, for my husband, for my dear lord Edward! Q. Eliz. What stay had I, but Edward? and he's gone. Chil. What stay had 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. Dor. Comfort, dear mother; God is much dis- That 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, Glo. Sister, have comfort: all of us have cause I did not see your grace:-Humbly on my knee Duch. God bless thee; and put meekness in thy Love, charity, obedience, and true duty! [breast, Glo. Amen; and make me die a good old man ! That is the butt-end of a mother's blessing; [Aside. I marvel, that her grace did leave it out. Buck. You cloudy princes, and heart-sorrowing That bear this mutual heavy load of moan, [peers, Now cheer each other in each other's love: The broken rancour of your high-swoln hearts, Riv. Why with some little train, my lord of Buckingham? 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. Q Riv. And so in me; and so, I think, in all: Which, haply, by much company might be urg'd: That it is meet so few should fetch the prince. Glo. Then be it so; and go we to determine [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. My oracle, my prophet!-My dear cousin, Towards Ludlow then, for we'll not stay behind. SCENE III.-The same. A street. Enter two Citizens, meeting. [Exeunt. 1 Cit. Good morrow, neighbour: Whither away so fast? 2 Cit. I promise you, I scarcely know myself: Hear you the news abroad? 1 Cit. 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! 1 opinions. ⚫ prelude. |