You do him injury to scorn his corse. Riv. 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 one in this presence But his red colour hath forsook his cheeks. K. Edw. Is Clarence dead? The order was reversed. Glo. But he, poor soul, by your first order died, God grant that some, less noble and less loyal, Enter STANLEY. Stan. A boon, my sovereign, for my service done! K. Edw. I pray thee, peace: my soul is full of sorrow. Stan. I will not rise, unless your highness grant. K. Edw. Then speak at once what is it thou demand'st. Stan. The forfeit, sovereign, of my servant's life ; Who slew to-day a riotous gentleman Lately attendant on the Duke of Norfolk. K. Edw. Have I a tongue to doom my brother's death, And shall that tongue give pardon to a slave? My brother killed no man, his fault was thought, And yet his punishment was bitter death. Who sued to me for him? who, in my rage, Ah! [Exeunt King and Queen, HASTINGS, RIVERS, DORSET, and GREY. Glo. This is the fruit of rashness !-Marked you not How that the guilty kindred of the queen Looked pale when they did hear of Clarence' death } [Exeunt. SCENE II.-Another Room in the Palace. Enter the Duchess of YORK, with a Son and Daughter of CLARENCE. Boy. Tell me, good grandam, is our father dead } Duch. No, boy. Boy. Why do you wring your hands, and beat your breast, And cry O Clarence, my unhappy son!' Girl. Why do you look on us, and shake your head, And call us wretches, orphans, castaways, If that our noble father be alive? Duch. My pretty cousins, you mistake me both; I do lament the sickness of the king, As loth to lose him, not your father's death; Boy. Then, grandam, you conclude that he is dead. The king my uncle is to blame for this: Girl. And so will I. Duch. Peace, children, peace! the king doth love you well: Incapable and shallow innocents, V Boy. Grandam, we can; for my good uncle Gloster Told me, the king, provoked to 't by the queen, And he would love me dearly as his child. And with a virtuous vizor hide foul guile ! Son. Think you my uncle did dissemble, grandam? Duch. Ay, boy. Son. I cannot think it.-Hark! what noise is this? Enter Queen ELIZABEEH, with her hair about her ears; RIVERS and DORSET after her. Q. Eliz. O, 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? Q. Eliz. To make an act of tragic violence : Edward, my lord, your son, our king, is dead. Why grow the branches when the root is gone? Why wither not the leaves that want their sap? will live, lament; if die, be brief, That our swift-winged souls may catch the king's; Or, like obedient subjects, follow him If you 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 To overgo thy plaints and drown thy cries! Son. Good aunt, you wept not for our father's death! How can we aid you with our kindred tears? Daughter. Our fatherless distress we left unmoaned; Your widow-dolour likewise be unwept ! Q. Eliz. Give me no help in lamentation; I am not barren to bring forth complaints: All springs reduce their currents to mine eyes, That I, being governed by the watery moon, May send 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! Duch. Alas for both, both mine, Edward and Clarence! Q. Eliz. What stay had I but Edward? and he's gone. |