Boy. Why do you looke on vs, and shake your head, And call vs Orphans, Wretches, Castawayes, If that our Noble Father were aliue? Dut. My pretty Cosins, you mistake me both, I do lament the sicknesse of the King, As loath to lose him, not your Fathers death: It were lost sorrow to waile one that's lost

Boy. Then you conclude, (my Grandam) he is dead: The King mine Vnckle is too blame for it. God will reuenge it, whom I will importune With earnest prayers, all to that effect

Daugh. And so will I

Dut. Peace children peace, the King doth loue you wel. Incapeable, and shallow Innocents, You cannot guesse who caus'd your Fathers death

Boy. Grandam we can: for my good Vnkle Gloster Told me, the King prouok'd to it by the Queene, Deuis'd impeachments to imprison him; And when my Vnckle told me so, he wept, And pittied me, and kindly kist my cheeke: Bad me rely on him, as on my Father, And he would loue me deerely as a childe

Dut. Ah! that Deceit should steale such gentle shape, And with a vertuous Vizor hide deepe vice. He is my sonne, I, and therein my shame, Yet from my dugges, he drew not this deceit

Boy. Thinke you my Vnkle did dissemble Grandam? Dut. I Boy

Boy. I cannot thinke it. Hearke, what noise is this? Enter the Queene with her haire about her ears, Riuers & Dorset after her.

Qu. Ah! who shall hinder me to waile and weepe? To chide my Fortune, and torment my Selfe. Ile ioyne with blacke dispaire against my Soule, And to my selfe, become an enemie

Dut. What meanes this Scene of rude impatience? Qu. To make an act of Tragicke violence. Edward my Lord, thy Sonne, our King is dead. Why grow the Branches, when the Roote is gone? Why wither not the leaues that want their sap? If you will liue, Lament: if dye, be breefe, That our swift-winged Soules may catch the Kings, Or like obedient Subiects follow him, To his new Kingdome of nere-changing night

Dut. Ah so much interest haue in thy sorrow, As I had Title in thy Noble Husband: I haue bewept a worthy Husbands death, And liu'd with looking on his Images: But now two Mirrors of his Princely semblance, Are crack'd in pieces, by malignant death, And I for comfort, haue but one false Glasse, That greeues me, when I see my shame in him. Thou art a Widdow: yet thou art a Mother, And hast the comfort of thy Children left, But death hath snatch'd my Husband from mine Armes, And pluckt two Crutches from my feeble hands, Clarence, and Edward. O, what cause haue I, (Thine being but a moity of my moane) To ouer-go thy woes, and drowne thy cries

Boy. Ah Aunt! you wept not for our Fathers death: How can we ayde you with our Kindred teares? Daugh. Our fatherlesse distresse was left vnmoan'd, Your widdow-dolour, likewise be vnwept

Qu. Giue me no helpe in Lamentation, I am not barren to bring forth complaints: All Springs reduce their currents to mine eyes, That I being gouern'd by the waterie Moone, May send forth plenteous teares to drowne the World. Ah, for my Husband, for my deere Lord Edward

Chil. Ah for our Father, for our deere Lord Clarence

Dut. Alas for both, both mine Edward and Clarence

Qu. What stay had I but Edward, and hee's gone? Chil. What stay had we but Clarence? and he's gone

Dut. What stayes had I, but they? and they are gone

Qu. Was neuer widdow had so deere a losse

Chil. Were neuer Orphans had so deere a losse

William Shakespeare
Classic Literature Library

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