O God! I fear, thy justice will take hold [Exeunt King, Queen, HASTINgs, Rivers, Glo. This is the fruit of rashness !-Mark'd you not, How that the guilty kindred of the queen God will revenge it. Come, lords; will you go, 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, 5 my 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. As loath to lose him, not your father's death; 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 Duch. Peace, children, peace! the king doth love you well: Incapable and shallow innocents, You cannot guess who caus'd your father's death. And with a virtuous visor hide deep vice! Son. Think you, my uncle did dissemble, grandam? Son. I cannot think it. Hark! what noise is this? Enter Queen ELIZABETH, distractedly; RIVERS, and DORSET following her. Q. Eliz. Ah! who shall hinder me to wail and weep? Duch. What means this scene of rude impatience? Incapable and shallow innocents,] Incapable is unintelligent. gone? ? sap? F ward, my lord, thy son, our king, is dead.- Duch. Ah, so much interest have I in thy sorrow, But now, two mirrors of his princely semblance 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 I, being govern'd by the watry moon, May send forth plenteous tears to drown the world! Ah, for my husband, for my dear lord Edward! Chil. Ah, forour father, for our dear lord Clarence. Duch. Alas, for both, both mine, Edward and Clarence! 7 his images :] The children by whom he was represented. 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; 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; Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent; 8 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 grave, And plant your joys in living Edward's throne. Enter GLOSTER, BUCKINGHAM, STANLEY, HASTINGS, RATCLIFFE, and Others. Glo. Sister, have comfort: all of us have cause For it requires -] i. e. because. To wail the dimming of our shining star; I did not see your grace :-Humbly on my knee Duch. God bless thee; and put meekness 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 blessing; I marvel, that her grace did leave it out. [Aside. Buck. You cloudy princes, and heart-sorrowing peers, That bear this mutual heavy load of moan, The broken rancour of your high swoln hearts, Riv. Why with some little train, my lord of 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 |