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

member

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

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.

Enter GLOSTER.

Glo. Good morrow to my sovereign king, and queen;

And, princely peers, a happy time of day!

K. Edw. Happy, indeed, as we have spent the day: Brother, we have done deeds of charity;

Made peace of enmity, fair love of hate,
Between these swelling wrong-incensed peers.

Glo. A blessed labour my most sovereign liege.

Among this princely heap, if any here,

By false intelligence, or wrong surmise,
Hold me a foe;

If I unwittingly, or in my rage,

Have ought 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 service; -
Of you, my noble cousin Buckingham,

-

If ever any grudge were lodged 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?

You do him injury, to scorn his corse.

[They all start.

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 rest?
Dor. Ay, my good lord? and no man in the

But his red colour hath forsook his cheeks.

presence,

K. Edw. Is Clarence dead? the order was revers'd. Glo. But he, poor man, by your first order died, And that a winged Mercury did bear;

Some tardy cripple bore the countermand,
That came too lag to see him buried: ·
God grant, that some, less noble, and less loyal,
Nearer in bloody thoughts, and not in blood, †
Deserve not worse than wretched Clarence did,
And yet go current from suspicion!

Enter STANLEY.

Stan. A boon, my sovereign, for my service done! K. Edw. I pr'ythee, peace; my soul is full of sorrow. Stan. I will not rise, unless your highness hear me. K. Edw. Then say at once, what is it thou request❜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 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, Frozen almost to death, how he did lap me Even in his garments; and did give himself,

ተ

"but not in blood," - MALONE.

3 The forfeit,] He means the remission of the forfeit.

* Have I a tongue to doom my brother's death,] This lamentation is very tender and pathetick. The recollection of the good qualities of the dead is very natural, and no less naturally does the king endeavour to communicate the crime to others.

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. -
Come, Hastings, help me to my closet. O,
Poor Clarence!

[Exeunt King, Queen, HASTINGS, RIVERS, DORSET and GREY.

Glo. This is the fruit of rashness !- Mark'd you not, How that the guilty kindred of the queen

Look'd pale, when they did hear of Clarence' death? O! they did urge it still unto the king:

God will revenge it. Come, lords; will you go,

To comfort Edward with our company?

Buck. We wait upon your grace.

SCENE II.

The same.

[Exeunt.

Enter the Duchess of YORK, with a Son and Daughter of CLARENCE.

Son. Good grandam, tell us, is our father dead?
Duch. No, boy.

Daugh. Why do you weep so oft? and beat your breast;

And cry-O Clarence, 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 both; I do lament the sickness of the king.

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 doth love you well:

Incapable and shallow innocents, 6

You cannot guess who caus'd your father's death.

Son. Grandam, we can: for my good uncle Gloster Told me, the king provok'd to't by the queen, Devis'd impeachments to imprison him: And when my uncle told me so, he wept, And pitied me, and kindly kiss'd my cheek; 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?

5my pretty cousins,] The duchess is here addressing her grand-children, but cousin was the term used in Shakspeare's time, by uncles to nephews and nieces, grandfathers to grandchildren, &c. It seems to have been used instead of our kinsman, and kinswoman, and to have supplied the place of both.

6 Incapable and shallow innocents,] Incapable is unintelligent.