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Ah, who shall hinder me to wail and weep,

To chide my fortune, and torment myself?

I'll join with black despair against my soul

And to myself become an enemy.

DUCHESS.

What means this scene of rude impatience?

QUEEN ELIZABETH.

To make an act of tragic violence.

EDWARD, my lord, thy son, our king, is dead.

Why grow the branches when the root is gone?

Why wither not the leaves that want their sap?

If you will live, lament; if die, be brief,

That our swift-winged souls may catch the King's,

Or like obedient subjects follow him

To his new kingdom of ne'er-changing night.

DUCHESS.

Ah, so much interest have I in thy sorrow

As I had title in thy noble husband!

I have bewept a worthy husband's death,

And liv'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 have but one false glass,

That grieves me when I see my shame in him.

Thou art a widow, yet thou art a mother

And hast the comfort of thy children left;

But death hath snatch'd my husband from mine arms

And pluck'd two crutches from my feeble hands-

Clarence and Edward. O, what cause have I-

Thine being but a moiety of my moan-

To overgo thy woes and drown thy cries?

SON.

Ah, aunt, you wept not for our father's death!

How can we aid you with our kindred tears?

DAUGHTER.

Our fatherless distress was left unmoan'd;

Your widow-dolour likewise be unwept!

QUEEN ELIZABETH.

Give me no help in lamentation;

I am not barren to bring forth complaints.

All springs reduce their currents to mine eyes

That I, being govern'd by the watery moon,

May send forth plenteous tears to drown the world!

Ah for my husband, for my dear Lord Edward!

CHILDREN.

Ah for our father, for our dear Lord Clarence!

DUCHESS.

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.

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.

Was never mother had so dear a loss.

Alas, I am the mother of these griefs!

Their woes are parcell'd, mine is 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 lamentation.

DORSET.

Comfort, dear mother. God is much displeas'd

That you take with unthankfulness his doing.

In common worldly things 'tis called ungrateful

With dull unwillingness 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.

Enter GLOUCESTER, BUCKINGHAM, DERBY,

HASTINGS, and RATCLIFF

GLOUCESTER.

Sister, have comfort. All of us have cause

To wail the dimming of our shining star;

But none can help our 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.

God bless thee; and put meekness in thy breast,

Love, charity, obedience, and true duty!

GLOUCESTER.

Amen! [Aside] 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.

BUCKINGHAM.

You cloudy princes and heart-sorrowing peers,

That bear this heavy mutual 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-swol'n hearts,

But lately splinter'd, knit, and join'd together,

Must gently