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Oh for my husband, for my dear lord Edward! |
Children: |
Oh for our father, for our dear lord Clarence! |
DUCHESS OF YORK: |
Alas for both, both mine, Edward and Clarence! |
QUEEN ELIZABETH: |
What stay had I but Edward? and he's gone. |
Children: |
What stay had we but Clarence? and he's gone. |
DUCHESS OF YORK: |
What stays had I but they? and they are gone. |
QUEEN ELIZABETH: |
Was never widow had so dear a loss! |
Children: |
Were never orphans had so dear a loss! |
DUCHESS OF YORK: |
Was never mother had so dear a loss! |
Alas, I am the mother of these moans! |
Their woes are parcell'd, mine are general. |
She for an Edward weeps, and so do 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. |
DORSET: |
Comfort, dear mother: God is much displeased |
That you take with unthankfulness, his doing: |
In common worldly things, 'tis call'd ungrateful, |
With dull unwilligness to repay a debt |
Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent; |
Much more to be thus opposite with heaven, |
For it requires the royal debt it lent you. |
RIVERS: |
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. |
GLOUCESTER: |
Madam, have comfort: all of us have cause |
To wail the dimming of our shining star; |
But none can cure their harms by wailing them. |
Madam, my mother, I do cry you mercy; |
I did not see your grace: humbly on my knee |
I crave your blessing. |
DUCHESS OF YORK: |
God bless thee; and put meekness in thy mind, |
Love, charity, obedience, and true duty! |
GLOUCESTER: |
BUCKINGHAM: |
You cloudy princes and heart-sorrowing peers, |
That bear this mutual heavy load of moan, |
Now cheer each other in each other's love |
Though we have spent our harvest of this king, |
We are to reap the harvest of his son. |
The broken rancour of your high-swoln hearts, |
But lately splinter'd, knit, and join'd together, |
Must gently be preserved, cherish'd, and kept: |
Me seemeth good, that, with some little train, |
Forthwith from Ludlow the young prince be fetch'd |
Hither to London, to be crown'd our king. |
RIVERS: |
Why with some little train, my Lord of Buckingham? |
BUCKINGHAM: |
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. |
GLOUCESTER: |
I hope the king made peace with all of us |
And the compact is firm and true in me. |
RIVERS: |
And so in me; and so, I think, in all: |
Yet, since it is but green, it should be put |
To no apparent likelihood of breach, |
Which haply by much company might be urged: |
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