Shakespeare's First Folio Part 418

Boy. Then you conclude, (my Grandam) he is dead: The King mine Vnckle is too blame for it.

G.o.d will reuenge it, whom I will importune With earnest prayers, all to that effect

Daugh. And so will I

Dut. Peace children peace, the King doth loue you wel.

Incapeable, and shallow Innocents, You cannot guesse who caus'd your Fathers death

Boy. Grandam we can: for my good Vnkle Gloster Told me, the King prouok'd to it by the Queene, Deuis'd impeachments to imprison him; And when my Vnckle told me so, he wept, And pittied me, and kindly kist my cheeke: Bad me rely on him, as on my Father, And he would loue me deerely as a childe

Dut. Ah! that Deceit should steale such gentle shape, And with a vertuous Vizor hide deepe vice.

He is my sonne, I, and therein my shame, Yet from my dugges, he drew not this deceit

Boy. Thinke you my Vnkle did dissemble Grandam?

Dut. I Boy

Boy. I cannot thinke it. Hearke, what noise is this?

Enter the Queene with her haire about her ears, Riuers & Dorset after her.

Qu. Ah! who shall hinder me to waile and weepe?

To chide my Fortune, and torment my Selfe.

Ile ioyne with blacke dispaire against my Soule, And to my selfe, become an enemie

Dut. What meanes this Scene of rude impatience?

Qu. To make an act of Tragicke violence.

Edward my Lord, thy Sonne, our King is dead.

Why grow the Branches, when the Roote is gone?

Why wither not the leaues that want their sap?

If you will liue, Lament: if dye, be breefe, That our swift-winged Soules may catch the Kings, Or like obedient Subiects follow him, To his new Kingdome of nere-changing night

Dut. Ah so much interest haue in thy sorrow, As I had t.i.tle in thy n.o.ble Husband: I haue bewept a worthy Husbands death, And liu'd with looking on his Images: But now two Mirrors of his Princely semblance, Are crack'd in pieces, by malignant death, And I for comfort, haue but one false Gla.s.se, That greeues me, when I see my shame in him.

Thou art a Widdow: yet thou art a Mother, And hast the comfort of thy Children left, But death hath s.n.a.t.c.h'd my Husband from mine Armes, And pluckt two Crutches from my feeble hands, Clarence, and Edward. O, what cause haue I, (Thine being but a moity of my moane) To ouer-go thy woes, and drowne thy cries

Boy. Ah Aunt! you wept not for our Fathers death: How can we ayde you with our Kindred teares?

Daugh. Our fatherlesse distresse was left vnmoan'd, Your widdow-dolour, likewise be vnwept

Qu. Giue me no helpe in Lamentation, I am not barren to bring forth complaints: All Springs reduce their currents to mine eyes, That I being gouern'd by the waterie Moone, May send forth plenteous teares to drowne the World.

Ah, for my Husband, for my deere Lord Edward

Chil. Ah for our Father, for our deere Lord Clarence

Dut. Alas for both, both mine Edward and Clarence

Qu. What stay had I but Edward, and hee's gone?

Chil. What stay had we but Clarence? and he's gone

Dut. What stayes had I, but they? and they are gone

Qu. Was neuer widdow had so deere a losse

Chil. Were neuer Orphans had so deere a losse

Dut. Was neuer Mother had so deere a losse.

Alas! I am the Mother of these Greefes, Their woes are parcell'd, mine is generall.

She for an Edward weepes, and so do I: I for a Clarence weepes, so doth not shee: These Babes for Clarence weepe, so do not they.

Alas! you three, on me threefold distrest: Power all your teares, I am your sorrowes Nurse, And I will pamper it with Lamentation

Dor. Comfort deere Mother, G.o.d is much displeas'd, That you take with vnthankfulnesse his doing.

In common worldly things, 'tis call'd vngratefull, With dull vnwillingnesse to repay a debt, Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent: Much more to be thus opposite with heauen, For it requires the Royall debt it lent you

Riuers. Madam, bethinke you like a carefull Mother Of the young Prince your sonne: send straight for him, Let him be Crown'd, in him your comfort liues.

Drowne desperate sorrow in dead Edwards graue, And plant your ioyes in liuing Edwards Throne.

Enter Richard, Buckingham, Derbie, Hastings, and Ratcliffe.

Rich. Sister haue comfort, all of vs haue cause To waile the dimming of our s.h.i.+ning Starre: But none can helpe our harmes by wayling them.

Madam, my Mother, I do cry you mercie, I did not see your Grace. Humbly on my knee, I craue your Blessing

Dut. G.o.d blesse thee, and put meeknes in thy breast, Loue Charity, Obedience, and true Dutie

Rich. Amen, and make me die a good old man, That is the b.u.t.t-end of a Mothers blessing; I maruell that her Grace did leaue it out

Buc. You clowdy-Princes, & hart-sorowing-Peeres, That beare this heauie mutuall loade of Moane, Now cheere each other, in each others Loue: Though we haue spent our Haruest of this King, We are to reape the Haruest of his Sonne.

The broken rancour of your high-swolne hates, But lately splinter'd, knit, and ioyn'd together, Must gently be preseru'd, cherisht, and kept: Me seemeth good, that with some little Traine, Forthwith from Ludlow, the young Prince be set Hither to London, to be crown'd our King

Riuers. Why with some little Traine, My Lord of Buckingham?

Buc. Marrie my Lord, least by a mult.i.tude, The new-heal'd wound of Malice should breake out, Which would be so much the more dangerous, By how much the estate is greene, and yet vngouern'd.

Where euery Horse beares his commanding Reine, And may direct his course as please himselfe, As well the feare of harme, as harme apparant, In my opinion, ought to be preuented

Rich. I hope the King made peace with all of vs, And the compact is firme, and true in me

Riu. And so in me, and so (I thinke) in all.

Yet since it is but greene, it should be put To no apparant likely-hood of breach, Which haply by much company might be vrg'd: Therefore I say with n.o.ble Buckingham, That it is meete so few should fetch the Prince

Hast. And so say I

Rich. Then be it so, and go we to determine Who they shall be that strait shall poste to London.

Madam, and you my Sister, will you go To giue your censures in this businesse.

Exeunt.

Manet Buckingham, and Richard.

Buc. My Lord, who euer iournies to the Prince, For G.o.d sake let not vs two stay at home: For by the way, Ile sort occasion, As Index to the story we late talk'd of, To part the Queenes proud Kindred from the Prince

Rich. My other selfe, my Counsailes Consistory, My Oracle, My Prophet, my deere Cosin, I, as a childe, will go by thy direction, Toward London then, for wee'l not stay behinde.

Exeunt.

Scena Tertia.