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That came too lag to see him buried.

God grant that some, less noble and less loyal,

Nearer in bloody thoughts, an not in blood,

Deserve not worse than wretched Clarence did,

And yet go current from suspicion!

Enter DERBY

DERBY. A boon, my sovereign, for my service done!

KING EDWARD.

I prithee, peace; my soul is full of sorrow.

DERBY.

I Will not rise unless your Highness hear me.

KING EDWARD.

Then say at once what is it thou requests.

DERBY.

The forfeit, sovereign, of my servant's life;

Who slew to-day a riotous gentleman

Lately attendant on the Duke of Norfolk.

KING EDWARD.

Have I a tongue to doom my brother's death,

And shall that tongue give pardon to a slave?

My brother killed 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 bid 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,

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 race 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. [DERBY rises]

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 beholding to him in his life;

Yet none of you would once beg 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. Ah, poor Clarence!

Exeunt some with KING and QUEEN

GLOUCESTER.

This is the fruits 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?

BUCKINGHAM.

We wait upon your Grace. Exeunt

SCENE 2.

London. The palace

Enter the old DUCHESS OF YORK, with the SON and DAUGHTER of

CLARENCE

SON.

Good grandam, tell us, is our father dead?

DUCHESS.

No, boy.

DAUGHTER.

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, castaways,

If that our noble father were alive?

DUCHESS.

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 you conclude, my grandam, he is dead.

The King mine uncle is to blame for it.

God will revenge it; whom I will importune

With earnest prayers all to that effect.

DAUGHTER.

And so will I.

DUCHESS.

Peace, children, peace! The King doth love you well.

Incapable and shallow innocents,

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

SON.

Grandam, we can; for my good uncle Gloucester

Told me the King, provok'd to it 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 a child.

DUCHESS.

Ah, that deceit should steal such gentle shape,

And with a virtuous vizor 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?

DUCHESS.

Ay, boy.

SON.

I cannot think it. Hark! what noise is this?

Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH, with her hair about her

ears; RIVERS and DORSET after her

QUEEN