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Son. Then you conclude, my Grandam, he is dead:
The King mine Uncle is to blame for it.

God will revenge it, whom I will importune
With earneft Prayers, all to that effect.
Daugh. And fo will I

Dutch. Peace, Children, peace; the King doth love you Incapable and fhallow Innocents,

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You cannot guefs who caus'd your Father's Death.
Son. Grandam, we can; for my good Uncle Gløfter
Told me, the King, provok'd to it by the Queen,
Devis'd Impeachments to imprison him;
And when my Uncle told me fo, he wept,
And pitied me, and kindly kift my Cheek;
Bad me rely on him, as on my Father,
And he would love me dearly as a Child.

Dutch. Ah! that Deceit fhould steal fuch gentle Shape, 'And with a virtuous Vizard 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 diffemble, Grandam?
Dutch. Ay, Boy.

Son. I cannot think it. Hark, what noife is this? Enter the Queen with her Hair about her Ears, Rivers and Dorfet after her.

Queen. Ah! who fhall hinder me to wail and weep?
To chide my Fortune, and torment my felf?
I'll join with black Defpair against my Soul,
And to my felf become an Enemy-

Dutch. What means this Scene of rude Impatience?
Queen. To make an act of Tragick 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 fwift-winged Souls may catch the King's,.
Or like obedient Subjects follow him,

To his new Kingdom of ne'er changing Night.,
Dutch. Ah, fo much intereft have I in thy Sorrow,
As I had Title to thy Noble Husband;

I have bewept a worthy Husband's Death,

And

And liv'd with looking on his Images;
But now two Mirrors of his Princely femblance
Are crack'd in pieces, by malignant Death,
And I for comfort have but one false Glass,
That grieves me when I fee my Shame in him.
Thou art a Widow, yet thou art a Mother,
And haft the comfort of thy Children left;
But Death hath fnatch'd my Husband from mine Arms,
And pluckt two Crutches from my feeble Hands,
Clarence and Edward. O, what caufe have I,
(Thine being but a moiety of my moan)

To over-go thy Woes, 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 Fatherlefs diftress was left unmoan'd, You Widow dolour likewise be unwept.

Queen. Give me no help in Lamentation,

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I am not barren to bring forth Complaints:
All Springs reduce their currents to mine Eyes,
That I being govern'd by the watry Moon,
May fend 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.
Dutch. Alas, for both, both mine, Edward and Clarence.
Queen. What ftay had I, but Edward? and he's gone.
Chil. What ftay had we, but Clarence? and he's gone,
Dutch. What ftays had I, but they? and they are gone.
Queen. Was never Widow had fo dear a Lofs.
Chil. Were never Orphans had fo dear a Loss.
Dutch. Was never Mother had fo dear a Lofs.
Alas! I am the Mother of these Griefs,
Their Woes are parcell'd, mine is general.
She for an Edward weeps, and fo do 1;
I for a Clarence weep, fo doth not the;
Thefe Babes for Clarence weep, fo do not they.
Alas! you three, on me threefold diftreft
Pour all your Tears, I am your Sorrows Nurse,
And I will pamper it with Lamentation.

Dorf. Comfort, dear Mother; God is much difpleas'd, That you take with unthankfulness his doing.

In

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 oppofite with Heav'n,
For it requires the Royal Debt it lent you

Rivers. Madam, bethink you like a careful Mother :
Of the young Prince your Son; fend ftraight for him,
Let him be crown'd, in him your comfort lives.
Drown defperate Sorrow in dead Edward's Grave,
And plant your joys in living Edward's Throne.
Enter Gloucefter, Buckingham, Derby, Haftings and

Ratcliff.

Glo. Sifter, have comfort, all of us have caufe
To wail the dimming of our fhining Star:
But none can help our Harms by wailing them.
Madam, my Mother, I do cry you Mercy,

I did not fee your Grace. Humbly on my Knee-
I crave your Bleffing.

Dutch. God bless thee, and put Meeknefs in thy Breast, Love, Charity, Obedience, and true Duty.

Glo. Amen, and make me die a good old Man,

That is the butt end of a Mother's Bleffing;

I marvel that her Grace did leave it out.

Buck. You cloudy Princes, and heart-forrowing Peers,
That bear this mutual heavy load of Moan,
Now chear each other in each others Love;
Though we have spent our Harveft of this King,
We are to reap the Harveft of his Son.

The broken rancor of your high-fwoln hates,
But lately fplinter'd, knit and join'd together,
Muft gently be preferv'd, cherifht and kept:
Me feemeth good, that with fome little Train,
Forthwith from Ludlow the young Prince be fet,
Hither to London, to be crown'd our King
Riv. Why, with fome little Train,

My Lord of Buckingham?

Buck. Marry, my Lord, left, by a Multitude,
The new-heal'd wound of Malice fhould break out,
Which would be so much the more dangerous,

By how much the Estate is green, and yet ungovern'd

Where

Where every Horfe 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 fo in me, and fo, I think, in all,
Yet fince it is but green it should be put
To no apparent likelihood of breach,

Which haply by much Company might be urg'd;.
Therefore I fay, with Noble Buckingham,

That it is meet fo few should fetch the Prince.
Haft. And fo fay I.

Glo. Then be it fo, and go we to determine
Who they fhall be that ftreight fhall post to London.
Madam, and you my Sifter, will you go,

To give your Cenfures in this Bufinefs?

[Exeunti

[Manent Buckingham and Gloucefter..

Buck. My Lord, whoever journies to the Prince, For God's fake let not us two stay at home;

For by the way, I'll fort occafion,

As Index to the Story we lately talk'd of,

To part the Queen's proud Kindred from the Prince.
Glo. My other felf, my Counsel's Confiftory,

My Oracle, my Prophet, my dear Coufin,

I, as a Child, will go by thy direction.

Toward London then, for we'll not ftay behind. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.

Enter one Citizen at one Door, and another at the other. 1 Cit. Good morrow, Neighbour, whither away fo faft 2 Cit. I promise you I hardly know my self:

Hear you the News abroad?

1 Cit. Yes, the King is dead.

2 Cit. Ill News by'r Lady, feldom comes the better : I fear, I fear, 'twill prove a giddy World.

Enter another Citizen.

3 Cit. Neighbours, God speed.
Cit. Giye you good morrow, Sir.

3 CitDoth the News hold of good King Edward's Death? 2 Cit. Ay, Sir, it is too true, God help the while.

3 Cit. Then Mafters look to fee a troublous World. 1 Cit. No, no, by God's good Grace, his Son fhall Reign. 3 Cit. Wo to that Land that's govern'd by a Child. 2 Cit. In him there is a hope of Government: Which in his Non-age, Counsel under him, And in his full and ripened Years, himself No doubt fhall then, and 'till then govern well.

1 Cit. So ftood the State when Henry the Sixth Was crown'd in Paris, but at nine Months old,

3 Cit. Stood the State fo? No, no, good Friends, God wot; For then this Land was famously enrich'd With politick grave Counfel; then the King Had virtuous Uncles to protect his Grace.

1 Cit. Why fo 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, who fhall now be nearest,
Will touch us all too near, if God prevent not.
O full of danger is the Duke of Glofter,

And the Queen's Sons, and Brothers, haught and proud:
And were they to be rul'd, and not to rule,

This fickly Land might folace as before.

I Cit. Come, come, we fear the worst, all will be well. 3 Cit. When Clouds are feen, wife Men put on their Cloaks; When great Leaves fall, then Winter is at hand, When the Sun fets, who doth not look for Night? Untimely Storms make Men expect a Dearth: All may be well; but if God fort it so, Tis more than we deferve, 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, ftill is it fo;
By a divine inftinct Mens Minds mistrust
Purfuing Danger; as by proof we fee
The Water fwell before a boift'rous Storm;
But leave it all to God. Whither away?

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