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hilts of thy sword, and then throw him into the When thou hast broke it in such dear demalmsey-butt, in the next room.

2 Murd. O excellent device! and make a sop of him.

1 Murd. Soft! he wakes.

2 Murd. Strike.

1 Murd. No, we'll reason with him.

Clar. Where art thou, keeper? give me a cup of wine.

1 Murd. You shall have wine enough, my lord, anon.

Clar. In God's name, what art thou? 1 Murd. A man, as you are.

Clar. But not, as I am, royal.

1 Murd. Nor you, as we are, loyal. Clar. Thy voice is thunder, but thy looks are humble.

1 Murd. My voice is now the king's, my looks mine own.

Clar. How darkly, and how deadly dost thou speak!

Your eyes do menace me: Why look you pale?
Who sent you hither? Wherefore do you come?
Both Murd. To, to, to,-
Clar. To murder me?
Both Murd. Ay, ay.

Clar. You scarcely have the hearts to tell

me so,

nd therefore cannot have the hearts to do it. Wherein, my friends, have I offended you? 1 Murd. Offended us you have not, but the king.

Clar. I shall be reconciled to him again. 2 Murd. Never, my lord; therefore prepare to die.

Clar. Are you call'd forth from out a world

of men,

To slay the innocent? What is my offence?
Where is the evidence that doth accuse me?
What lawful quest* have given their verdict
up

Unto the frowning judge? or who pronounc'd
The bitter sentence of poor Clarence' death?
Before I be convict by course of law,
To threaten me with death is most unlawful.
I charge you, as you hope for any goodness,
By Christ's dear blood shed for our grievous
sins,

That you depart, and lay no hands on me;
The deed you undertake is damnable.

1 Murd. What we will do, we do upon com

mand.

2 Murd. And he, that hath commanded, is our king.

Clar. Erroneous vassal! the great King of kings

Hath in the table of his law commanded,
That thou shalt do no murder; Wilt thou then
Spurn at his edict, and fulfil a man's?
Take heed; for he holds vengeance in his hand,
To hurl upon their heads that break his law.
2 Murd. And that same vengeance doth he
hurl on thee,

For false forswearing, and for murder too:
Thou didst receive the sacrament, to fight
In quarrelt of the house of Lancaster.

1 Murd. And, like a traitor to the name of God,

Didst break that vow; and, with thy treacherous blade,

Unrip'dst the bowels of thy sovereign's son. 2 Murd. Whom thou wast sworn to cherish and defend.

1 Murd. How canst thou urge God's dreadful law to us,

* Inquest, jury.

gree?

Clar. Alas! for whose sake did I that ill

deed?

For Edward, for my brother, for his sake:
He sends you not to murder me for this;
For in that sin he is as deep as I.
If God will be avenged for the deed,
O, know you, that he doth it publicly;
Take not the quarrel from his powerful arm;
He needs no indirect nor lawless course,
To cut off those that have offended him.

1 Murd. Who made thee then a bloody minister,

When gallant-springing, brave Plantagenet, That princely novice,* was struck dead by

thee?

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me;

I am his brother, and I love him well.
If you are hir'd for meed, go back again,
And I will send you to my brother Gloster;
Who shall reward you better for my life,
Than Edward will for tidings of my death.
2 Murd. You are deceiv'd, your brother
Gloster hates you.

Clar. O, no; he loves me, and he holds me dear:

Go you to him from me.

Both Murd. Ay, so we will.

Clar. Tell him, when that our princely fa

ther York

Bless'd his three sons with his victorious arm, And charg'd us from his soul to love each other,

He little thought of this divided friendship: Bid Gloster think on this, and he will weep.

1 Murd. Ay, mill-stones; as he lesson'd us

to weep.

Clar. O, do not slander him, for he is kind. 1 Murd. Right, as snow in harvest.—Come, you deceive yourself;

"Tis he that sends us to destroy you here. Clar. It cannot be; for he bewept my fortune, [sobs, And hugg'd me in his arms, and swore, with That he would labour my delivery.

1 Murd. Why so he doth, when he delivers you [ven. From this earth's thraldom to the joys of hea2 Murd. Make peace with God, for you must die, my lord.

Clar. Hast thou that holy feeling in thy soul,

To counsel me to make my peace with God, And art thou yet to thy own soul so blind, That thou wilt war with God, by murd'ring

me?

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On the part.

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thy looks;

Would not entreat for life?-
My friend, I spy some pity
O, if thine eye be not a flatt er,
Come thou on my side, and entreat for me,
As you would beg, were you in my distress.
A begging prince what beggar pities not?
2 Murd. Look behind you, my lord.

1 Murd. Take that, and that; if all this will not do, [Stabs him. I'll drown you in the malmsey-butt within. [Exit, with the body. 2 Murd. A bloody deed, and desperately despatch'd!

How fain, like Pilate, would wash my hands Of this most grievous guilty murder done!

Re-enter first MURDERER.

1 Murd. How now? what mean'st thou, that thou help'st me not?

By heaven, the duke shall know how slack you have been.

2 Murd. I would he knew, that I had sav'd his brother!

Take thou the fee, and tell him what I say; For I repent me that the duke is slain. [Exit.

1 Murd. So do not I; go, coward, as thou Well, I'll go hide the body in some hole, [art.Till that the duke give order for his burial: And when I have my meed, I will away; For this will out, and then I must not stay.

ACT II.

[Exit.

SCENE I.-The same.-A Room in the Palace.

With thy embracements to my wife's allies,
And make me happy in your unity.

Buck. Whenever Buckingham doth turn his hate

Upon your grace, [To the QUEEN.] but with all duteous love

Doth cherish you, and yours, God punish me
With hate in those where I expect most love!
When I have most need to employ a friend,
And most assured that he is a friend,
Deep, hollow, treacherous, and full of guile,
Be he unto me! this do I beg of heaven,
When I am cold in love, to you, or yours.
[Embracing RIVERS, &c.

K. Edw. A pleasing cordial, princely Buckingham, Is this thy vow unto my sickly heart. There wanteth now our brother Gloster here, To make the blessed period of this peace. Buck. And, in good time, here comes the noble duke.

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Among this princely heap, if any here, By false intelligence, or wrong surmise,

Enter King EDWARD, (led in sick,) Queen ELI-Hold me a foe;
ZABETH, DORSET, RIVERS, HASTINGS, BUCK-If I unwittingly, or in my rage,
INGHAM, GREY, and others.

K. Edw. Why, so:-now have I done a good
day's work;-

You peers, continue this united league:
1 every day expect an embassage
From my Redeemer to redeem me once;
And more in peace my soul shall part to hea-

ven,

Since I have made my friends at peace on earth. Rivers, and Hastings, take each other's hand; Dissemble not your hatred, swear your love. Riv. By heaven, my soul is purg'd from grudging hate;

And with my hand I seal my true heart's love. Hast. So thrive I, as I truly swear the like! K. Edw. Take heed, you dally not before your king;

Lest he, that is the supreme King of kings, Confound your hidden falsehood, and award Either of you to be the other's end.

Hast. So prosper I, as I swear perfect love! Riv. And I, as I love Hastings with my heart!

K. Edw. Madam, yourself are not exempt in this,

Nor your son Dorset,-Buckingham, nor you;You have been factious one against the other. Wife, love lord Hastings, let him kiss your hand;

And what you do, do it unfeignedly.

Q. Eliz. There, Hastings;-I will never more remember

Our former hatred, So thrive I, and mine! K. Edw. Dorset, embrace him,-Hastings, love lord marquis.

Dor. This interchange of love, I here protest, Upon my part shall be inviolable. Hast. And so swear I. [Embraces DORSET. K. Edw. Now, princely Buckingham, seal thou this league

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Have aught committed that is hardly borne
By any in this presence, I desire

To reconcile me to his friendly peace:
'Tis death to me, to be at enmity;

I hate it, and desire all good men's love.-
First, madam, I entreat true peace of you,
Which I will purchase with my duteous ser-
vice ;-

Of you, my noble cousin Buckingham,
If ever any grudge were lodg'd between us;-
Of you, lord Rivers,-and lord Grey, of you,-
That all without desert have frown'd on me;-
Dukes, earls, lords, gentlemen; indeed of all.
I do not know that Englishman alive,
With whom my soul is any jot at odds,
More than the infant that is born to-night;
I thank my God for my humility.

Q. Eliz. A holy-day shall this be kept hereafter:

I would to God, all strifes were well compounded.

My sovereign lord, I do beseech your highness To take our brother Clarence to your grace. Glo. Why, madam, have I offer'd love for

this,

To be so flouted in this royal presence? Who knows not, that the gentle duke is dead? [They all start.

You do him injury to scorn his corse. K. Edw. 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

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request'st.

Stan. The forfeit, sovereign, of my servant's Who slew to-day a riotous gentleman, [life; 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 kill'd no man, his fault was thought,
And yet his punishment was bitter death.
Who sued to me for him? who, in my wrath,
Kneel'd at my feet, and bade me be advis'd?
Who spoke of brotherhood? who spoke of love?
Who told me, how the poor soul did forsake
The mighty Warwick, and did fight for me?
Who told me, in the field at Tewksbury,
When Oxford had me down, he rescued me,
And said, Dear brother, live, and be a king?
Who told me, when we both lay in the field,
Frezen almost to death, how he did lap me
Even in his garments; and did give himself,
All thin and naked, to the numb-cold night?
All this from my remembrance brutish wrath
Sinfully pluck'd, and not a man of you
Had so much grace to put it in my mind.
But when your carters, or your waiting-vassals,
Have done a drunken slaughter, and defac'd
The precious image of our dear Redeemer,
You straight are on your knees for pardon,
pardon;

And I, unjustly too, must grant it you :-
But for my brother, not a man would speak,
Nor I (ungracious) speak unto myself
For him, poor soul.-The proudest of you all
Have been beholden to him in his life;
Yet none of you would once plead for his life.-
O God! I fear, thy justice will take hold
On me, and you, and mine, and yours, for

this.-

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Enter the Duchess of YORK, with a Son and DAUGHTER of Clarence.

Duugh. Why do you weep so oft? and bea! your breast;

And cry-O Glurence, my unhappy son! Son. Why do you look on us, and shake your head,

And call us-orphans, wretches, cast-aways, If that our noble father be alive?

Duch. My pretty cousins, you mistake me I do lament the sickness of the king, [both; 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
With earnest prayers all to that effect.
Daugh. And so will I.

Duch. Peace, children, peace! the king deth love you well:

Incapable* and shallow innocents, [death You cannot guess who caus'd your father Son. Grandam, we can: for my good uncl:

Gloster

Told me, the king, provok'd to't by the queer,
Devis'd impeachments to imprison him:
And when my uncle told me so, he wept,
And pitied me, and kindly kiss'd my check;
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
shapes,

And with a virtuous visor hide deep vice!
He is my son, ay, and therein my shame,
Yet from my dugs he drew not this deceit.
Son. Think you, my uncle did dissemble,
grandam?

Duch. Ay, boy.

Son. I cannot think it. Hark! what nois. is this!

Enter Queen ELIZABETH distractedly; RIVERS, and DORSET, following her.

Q. Eliz. Ah! who shall hinder me to wail

To chide my fortune, and torment myself?
and weep?
I'll join with black despair against my soul,
And to myself become an enemy.

Duch. What means this scene of rude impa

tience?

Q. Eliz. To make an act of tragic violence:Edward, my lord, thy son, our king, is dead. Why grow the branches, when the root is gone? Why wither not the leaves, that want their

sap?

If you will live, lament; if die, be brief,
That our swift-winged souls may catch the
Or, like obedient subjects, follow him
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,
And liv'd by looking on his images:
Are crack'd in pieces by malignant death;
But now two mirrors of his princely semblance
And I for comfort have but one false glass,
That grieves me when I see my shame in him.
Thou art a widow; yet thou art a mother,
And hast the comfort of thy children left thee:
But death hath snatch'd my husband from my
[hands,

arms,

And pluck'd two crutches from my feeble Son. Good grandam, tell us, is our father Clarence, and Edward. O, what cause have 1, dead?

Duch. No, boy

* Ignorant.

(Thine being but a moiety of my grief,) To over-go thy plaints, and drown thy cries! 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: All springs reduce their currents to mine eyes, That 1, being govern'd by the watery moon, May send forth plenteous tears to drown the world! [ward! Ah, for my husband, for my dear lord EdChil. 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.

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.

Chil. Were never orphans, had so dear a loss.

Duch. Was never mother had so dear a loss. Alas! I am the mother of these griefs; Their woes are parcell'd,* mine are general. She for an Edward weeps, and so do I; I for a Clarence weep, so doth not she: These babes for Clarence weep, and so do I: I for an Edward weep, so do not they :Alas! you three, on me, threefold distress'd, Pour all your tears, I am your sorrow's nurse. And I will pamper it with lamentations.

Dor. Comfort, dear mother; God is much displeas'd,

That you take with unthankfulness his doing; In common worldly things, 'tis call'd-ungrateful,

With dull unwillingness to repay a debt, Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent; Much more to be thus opposite with heaven, For it requires the royal debt it lent you.

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

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Buck. You cloudy princes, and heart sorrowing peers,

That bear this mutual heavy load of moan,
Now cheer each other in each other's love:
Though we have spent our harvest of this king,
We are to reap the harvest of his son.
The broken rancour of your high-swoln hearts,
But lately splinted, knit, and join'd together,
Must gently be preserv'd, cherish'd, and kept:
Me seemeth good, that, with some little train,
Forthwith from Ludlow the young prince be
fetch'd

Hither to London, to be crown'd our king.
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.
Riv. And so in me; and so, I think, in all:
Yet, since it is but green, it should be put
To no apparent likelihood of breach, [urged:
Which, haply, by much company might be
Therefore I say, with noble Buckingham,
That it is meet so few should fetch the prince.
Hast. And so say I.

Glo. Then be it so; and go we to determine Who they shall be that straight shall post to Ludlow.

Madam, and you my mother, will you go To give your censures in this weighty busi

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SCENE III.-The same.-A Street.

Enter two CITIZENS, meeting.

1 Cit. Good morrrow, 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 Cit. Give you good morrow, Sir.

3 Cit. Doth the news hold of good king Edward's death?

2 Cit. Ay, Sir, it is too true; God help, the while!

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1 Cit. So stood the state, when Henry the sixth

Was crown'd in Paris but at nine months old. 3 Cit. Stood the state so? no, no, good friends, God wot;t

For then this land was famously enrich'd
With politic grave counsel; then the king
Had virtuous uncles to protect his grace.

1 Cit. Why, so hath this, both by his father and mother.

3 Cit. Better it were they all came by his father;

Or, by his father, there were none at all:
For emulation now, who shall be nearest,
Will touch us all too near, if God prevent not.
O, full of danger is the duke of Gloster;
And the queen's sons, and brothers, haught
and proud:

And were they to be rul'd, and not to rule,
This sickly land might solace as before.

1 Cit. Come, come, we fear the worst; all will be well.

3 Cit. When clouds are seen, wise men put on their cloaks;

When great leaves fall, then winter is at hand; When the sun sets, who doth not look for

night?

Untimely storms make men expect a dearth: All may be well; but, if God sort it so, "Tis more than we deserve, or I expect.

2 Cit. Truly, the hearts of men are full of fear: You cannot reason; almost with a man That looks not heavily, and full of dread.

3 Cit. Before the days of change, still is it so: By a divine instinct, men's minds mistrust Ensuing danger; as, by proof, we see The water swell before a boist'rous storm. But leave it all to God. Whither away? 2 Cit. Marry, we were sent for to the justices.

3 Cit. And so was I; I'll bear you company. [Exeunt. SCENE IV.-The same.-A Room in the Palace. Enter the Archbishop of YORK, the young Duke of YORK, Queen ELIZABETH, and the Duchess of YORK.

Arch. Last night, I heard, they lay at Stony-
Stratford;

And at Northampton they do rest to-night:
To-morrow, or next day, they will be here.
Duch. I long with all my heart to see the
prince;

I hope, he is much grown since last I saw him.
Q. Eliz. But I hear, no; they say, my son of
York

Hath almost overta'en him in his growth. York. Ay, mother, but I would not have it

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My uncle Rivers talk'd how I did grow More than my brother; Ay, quoth my uncle Gloster,

Small herbs have grace, great weeds do grow apace: And since, methinks, I would not grow so fast, Because sweet flowers are slow, and weeds make haste.

Duch. 'Good faith, 'good faith, the saying did not hold

In him that did object the same to thee:
He was the wretched'st thing, when he was
young,

So long a growing, and so leisurely,
[cious.
That, if his rule were true, he should be gra-
Arch. And so, no doubt, he is, my gracious

madam.

Duch. I hope, he is; but yet let mothers doubt.

York. Now, by my troth, if I had been re

member'd,

I could have given my uncle's grace a flout, To touch his growth, nearer than he touch'd mine.

Duch. How, my young York? I pr'ythee, let me hear it.

York. Marry, they say, my uncle grew so fast,

That he could gnaw a crust at two hours old; 'Twas full two years ere I could get a tooth. Grandam, this would have been a biting jest. Duch. I pr'y thee, pretty York, who told thee this?

York. Grandam, his nurse.

Duch. His nurse? why, she was dead ere thou wast born.

York. If 'twere not she, I cannot tell who told me.

Q. Eliz. A parlous boy: Go to, you are too

shrewd.

Arch. Good madam, be not angry with the child.

Q. Eliz. Pitchers have ears.

Enter a MESSENGER.

Arch. Here comes a messenger: What news?

Mess. Such news, my lord,

As grieves me to unfold.

Q. Eliz. How doth the prince?

Mess. Well, madam, and in health.
Duch. What is thy news?

Mess. Lord Rivers, and lord Grey, are sent

to Pomfret,

With them Sir Thomas Vaughan, prisoners.
Duch. Who hath committed them?
Mess. The mighty dukes,
Gloster and Buckingham.

Q. Eliz. For what offence?

Mess. The sum of all I can, I have disclos'd; Why, or for what, the nobles were committed, Is all unknown to me, my gracious lady.

Q. Eliz. Ah me, I see the ruin of my house! The tiger now hath seiz'd the gentle hind; Insulting tyranny begins to jut

Upon the innocent and awless throne:Welcome, destruction, blood, and massacre! I see, as in a map, the end of all.

Duch. Accursed and unquiet wrangling days! How many of you have mine eyes beheld? My husband lost his life to get the crown; And often up and down my sons were tost, For me to joy, and weep, their gain, and loss: And being seated, and domestic broils Clean over-blown, themselves, the conquerors, Make war upon themselves; brother to brother,

* Perilous, dangerous.

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