Uncle, my brother mocks both you and me :
Because that I am little, like an ape,

He thinks that you should bear me on your shoulders.
P. Ed. Fie, brother, I have no such meaning!
Glost. My lord, wilt please you, pass along?
Myself and my good cousin of Buckingham
Will to your mother, to entreat of her

To meet, and bid you welcome, at the Tower.
D. of York. What! will you go to the Tower, my
dear lord?

P. Ed. My Lord Protector will have it so.

D. of York. I shan't sleep in quiet, at the Tower. Glost. I'll warrant you; King Henry lay there, And he sleeps in quiet. [Aside.

P. Ed. What should you fear, brother?

D. of York. My uncle, Clarence' ghost, my lord; My grandmother told me he was kill'd there. P. Ed. I fear no uncles dead.

Glost. Nor any, sir, that live, I hope?

P. Ed. I hope so too; but come, my lords, To the Tower, since it must be so.

[Exeunt all but GLOSTER and BUCKINGHAM. Buck. Think you, my lord, this little, prating, York Was not instructed by his subtle mother,

To taunt and scorn you thus opprobriously?

Glost. No doubt-no doubt; oh, 'tis a shrewd young master :

Stubborn, bold, quick, forward, and capable!
He is all the mother's, from the top to the toe :
But let them rest.-Now what says Catesby?
Buck. My lord, 'tis much as I suspected, and
He's here himself to inform you.

Enter CATESBY.

Glost. So, Catesby, hast thou been tampering? What news?

Catesby. My lord, according to the instruction. given me,

E

Lady A. I do, my lord, and much it joys me too, To see you are become so penitent. Tressel, and Stanley, go along with me. Glost. Bid me farewell.

Lady A. Tis more than you deserve.

But, since you teach me how to flatter you,
Imagine I have said farewell already.
Guard. Towards Chertsey, my lord?

[Exeunt.

Glost. No, to Whitefriars; there attend my com[Exeunt GUARDS, with the Body.

ing.

Was ever woman, in this humour, woo'd?

Was ever woman, in this humour, won?
I'll have her, but I will not keep her long.
What! I, that kill'd her husband, and his father,
To take her, in her heart's extremest hate,
With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes,
The bleeding witness of my hatred by ;

Having Heaven, her conscience, and these bars, against me,

And I, no friends to back my suit withal,
But the plain devil, and dissembling looks!
And yet, to win her! all the world to nothing!
Can she abase her beauteous eyes on me,
Whose all not equals Edward's moiety?
On me, that halt, and am misshapen thus!
My dukedom to a widow's chastity,
I do mistake my person, all this while,
Upon my life! she finds, (although, I cannot,)
Myself, to be a marvellous, proper man.
I'll have my chambers lin'd with looking-glass;
And entertain a score or two of tailors,
To study fashions, to adorn my body.
Since I am crept in favour with myself,
I will maintain it, with some little cost;
But first, I'll turn St. Harry to his grave,
And then return, lamenting, to my love.
Shine out, fair sun, till I salute my glass,
That I may see my shadow, as I pass.

[Exit.

SCENE II.

The Presence Chamber.

Enter BUCKINGHAM, hastily, meeting LORD
STANLEY.

Buck. Did you see the duke?

Stanley. What duke, my lord ?

Buck. His Grace of Gloster; did you see him? Stanley. Not lately, my lord-I hope no ill news? Buck. The worst that heart e'er bore, or tongue can utter,

Edward, the king, his royal brother,'s dead!

Stanley. "Tis sad, indeed! I wish by your impatience,

To acquaint him though, you think it so, to him.

Did the king, my lord, make any mention
Of a protector, for his crown, and children?

[Aside.

Buck. He did; Duke Richard has the care of

both.

Stanley. That sad news you are afraid to tell him

too.

[Aside. Buck. He'll spare no toils, I'm sure, to fill his

place. Stanley. 'Pray, Heav'n, he's not too diligent !

[Aside.

My lord, is not that the Duchess of York,
The king's mother, coming, I fear, to visit him?
Buck. "Tis she-little thinking what has befall'n us!

Enter DUCHESS OF YORK.

Duch. of York. Good day, my lords; how takes the king his rest?

Buck. Alas, madam! too well-he sleeps for ever!
Duch. of York. Dead! Good Heav'n, support me!
Buck. Madam, 'twas my unhappy lot, to hear
His last departing groans, and close his eyes!
Duch. of York. Another taken from me too! why,
just Heav'n,

Am I still left the last, in life, and woe?
First, I bemoan'd a noble husband's death,
Yet liv'd, with looking on his images:

But now, my last support is gone.-First, Clarence,
Now, Edward, is for ever taken from me,
And I must now of force, sink down with sorrow!
Buck. Your youngest son, the noble Richard, lives,
His love, I know, will feel his mother's cares,

And bring new comfort to your latter days.

Duch. of York. 'Twere new,

I've none,

indeed! for yet of him,

Unless a churlish disposition may

Be counted from a child a mother's comfort.

Where is the queen, my lord?

Buck. I left her with her kinsmen, deep in sorrow, Who have, with much ado, persuaded her

To leave the body.—Madam, they are here.

Enter QUEEN, RIVERS, and Dorset.

Queen. Why do you thus oppose my grief? unless, To make me rave, and weep, the faster? ha! My mother too, in tears! fresh sorrow strikes My heart, at sight of every friend that lov'd My Edward, living! Oh, mother, he's dead! Edward, my lord, thy son, our king, is dead! Oh, that my eyes could weep away my soul ! Then I might follow, worthy of his hearse.

Stanley. Your duty, madam, of a wife, is dead, And now, the mother's only, claims your care. Think on the prince, your son-send for him, straight, And let his coronation clear your eyes,

Bury your griefs in the dead Edward's grave-
Revive your joys, on living Edward's throne.

Queen. Alas! that thought, but adds to my afflictions !

New tears for Edward, gone, and fears for Edward, living!

An helpless child, in his minority,

Is in the trust of his stern uncle, Gloster—
A man, that frowns on me, and all of mine.

Buck. Judge not so hardly, madam, of his love: Your son will find in him, a father's care.

Enter GLOSTER, behind.

Glost. Why, ah! these tears look well-Sorrow's the mode,

And every one at court must wear it now :

With all my heart; I'll not be out of fashion. [Aside. Queen. My lord, just Heaven knows, I never hated Gloster!

But would, on any terms, embrace his friendship. Buck. These words would make him weep-I know him yours.

See, where he comes, in sorrow for our loss.

Glost. My lords, good morrow-Cousin of Buckingham,

I am yours.

Buck. Good morning to your grace.

Glost. Methinks,

We meet, like men that had forgot to speak.

[Weeps.

Buck. We may remember; but our argument,

Is now too mournful to admit such talk.

Glost. It is, indeed! Peace be with him, that made

it so!

Sister, take comfort; 'tis true, we've all cause
To mourn the dimming of our shining star;
But sorrow never could revive the dead;
And if it could, hope would prevent our tears;
So we must weep, because we weep in vain.