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 [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, Glo. A blessed labour my most sovereign liege. Among this princely heap, if any here, By false intelligence, or wrong surmise, If I unwittingly, or in my rage, Have ought committed that is hardly borne I hate it, and desire all good men's love,- - If ever any grudge were lodged between us; Q. Eliz. A holy-day shall this be kept hereafter: Glo. Why, madam, have I offer'd love for this, 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! 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, 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? But for my brother, not a man would speak, - [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? 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. 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. |