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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.

ACT THE THIRD.

SCENE I.

The Palace.

PRINCE EDWARD, GLOSTER, BUCKINGHAM, LORD STANLEY, TRESSEL, and ATTENDANTS, discovered.

Glost. Now, my royal cousin, welcome to Lon

don !

Welcome to all those honour'd dignities,

Which, by your father's will, and by your birth,
You stand the undoubted heir possessed of!
And, if my plain simplicity of heart,
May take the liberty to show itself,
You're farther welcome to your uncle's care
And love-Why do you sigh, my lord?
That weary way has made you melancholy.
P. Ed. No, uncle; but our crosses on the way,
Have made it tedious, wearisome, and heavy:
I want more uncles here to welcome me.

Tressel. More uncles! what means his highness?
Stanley. Why, sir, the careful Duke of Gloster,

has

Secur'd his kinsmen on the way.-Lord Rivers, Gray,
Sir Thomas Vaughan, and others of his friends,
Are prisoners now in Pomfret Castle :

On what pretence it boots not, there they are ;
Let the devil and the duke alone to accuse them.
Glost. My lord, the Mayor of London comes to
greet you.

Enter LORD MAYOR and Two ALDERMEN.

Lord M. Vouchsafe, most gracious sovereign, to
accept

The general homage of your royal city:
We farther beg your royal leave, to speak,
In deep condolement of your father's loss;
And, as far as our true sorrow would permit,
To'gratulate your accession to the throne.

P. Ed. I thank you, good my lord, and thank you
all.

Alas! my youth is yet unfit to govern,

Therefore, the sword of justice is in abler hands;
But be assur'd of this, so much already

I perceive I love you, that though I know not yet
To do you offices of good; yet this I know,
I'll sooner die, than basely do you wrong.

Glost. So wise, so young, they say, do ne'er live

long.

P. Ed. My lords,

[Aside.

I thought my mother, and my brother, York,
Would, long ere this, have met us on the way:
Say, uncle Gloster, if our brother come,

Where shall we sojourn till our coronation?

Glost. Where it shall seem best to your royal self.

May I advise you, sir, some day or two,

Your highness shall repose you at the Tower; Then, where you please, and shall be thought most fit

For your best health and recreation.

P. Ed. Why at the Tower? But, be it as you please.

Buck. My lord, your brother's Grace of York.

Enter DUKE and DUCHESS OF YORK.

P. Ed. Richard of York! how fares our dearest

brother?

[Embracing.

D. of York. Oh, my dear lord! So I must call you

now.

P. Ed. Ay, brother, to our grief, as it is yours! Too soon he dy'd, who might have better worn That title, which, in me, will lose its majesty.

Glost. How fares our cousin, noble Lord of York? D. of York. Thank you kindly, dear uncle-Oh, my lord,

You said that idle weeds were fast in growth;
The king, my brother, has outgrown me, far.
Glost. He has, my lord.

D. of York. And, therefore, is he idle?

Glost. Oh, pretty cousin, I must not say so.

D. of York. Nay, uncle, I don't believe the saying's

true,

For, if it were, you'd be an idle weed.

Glost. How so, cousin?

D. of York. Because, I have heard folks say, you grew so fast,

Your teeth would gnaw a crust at two hours old:
Now, 'twas two years ere I could get a tooth.

Glost. Indeed! I find, the brat is taught this les

son.

Who told thee this, my pretty, merry cousin?
D. of York. Why, your nurse, uncle.

[Aside.

Glost. My nurse, child! she was dead 'fore thou wert born.

D. of York. If 'twas not she, I can't tell who told

me.

Glost. So subtle too! 'tis pity thou art short liv'd!

[Aside. P. Ed. My brother, uncle, will be cross in talk. Glost. Oh, fear not, my lord; we shall never quar

rel.

P. Ed. I hope your grace knows how to bear with

him.

D. of York. You mean to bear me, not to bear with me;

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.

[graphic]

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

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

E

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