May fend forth plenteous Tears to drown the World.
Ah, for my Husband-for my dear Lord Edward.
Chil. Ah, for our Father, for our dear Lord Clarence.
Dutch. Alas, for both, both mine, Edward and Clarence.
Queen. What ftay had I, but Edward? and he's gone.
Chil. What ftay had we, but Clarence? and he's gone.
Queen. Was never Widow had fo dear a Lofs.

Chil. Were never Orphans had fo dear a Lofs.
Dutch. Was never Mother had fo dear a lofs.
Alas! I am the Mother of thefe Griefs,
Their Woes are parcell'd, mine is general.
She for an Edward weeps, and fo do I; "
I for a Clarence weep, fo doth not fhé;
These Babes for Clarence weep, fo do not they.
Alas! you three, on me threefold diftreft
Pour all your Tears, I am your Sorrows Nurse,
And I will pamper it with Lamentation.

Dorf. Comfort, dear Mother; God is much difpleas'd, That you take with unthankfulness his doing.

In common worldly Things 'tis call'd ungrateful,
With dull unwillingness to repay a Debt,
Which with a bounteous Hand was kindly lent:
Much more to be thus oppofite with Heav'n,
For it requires the Royal Debt it lent you.

Rivers. Madam, bethink you like a careful Mother
Of the young Prince your Son; fend ftraight for him,
Let him be crown'd, in him your comfort lives.
Drown defperate Sorrow in dead Edward's Grave,
And plant your Joys in living Edward's Throne.
Enter Gloucefter, Buckingham, Derby, Haftings and
Ratcliff.

Glo. Sifter, have comfort, all of us have caufe
To wail the dimming of our fhining Star:
But none can help our harms by wailing them.
Madam, my Mother, I do cry you Mercy,
I did not fee your Grace. Humbly on my Knee

I crave your Bleffing.

Dutch. God bless thee, and put Meekness in thy Breast, Love, Charity, Obedience, and true Duty.

I 3

Gl..

Glo. Amen, and make me die a good old Man,
That is the butt end of a Mother's Bleffing;
I marvel that her Grace did leave it out.

Buck. You cloudy Princes, and heart-forrowing Peers,
That bear this mutual heavy load of Moan,
Now cheer each other in each others Love;
Though we have spent our Harveft of this King,
We are to reap the Harveft of his Son.
The broken rancor of your high-fwoln hates,
But lately splinter'd, knit and join'd together,
Muft gently be preferv'd, cherisht and kept:
Me feemerh good, that with fome little Train,
Forthwith from Ludlow the young Prince be fet,
Hither to London, to be crown'd our King.
Riv. Why with fome little Train,

My Lord of Buckingham?

Buck. Marry, my Lord, left, by a Multitude,
The new-heal'd wound of Malice fhould break out,
Which would be fo much the more dangerous,
By how much the Eftate is green, and yet ungovern'd.
Where every Horfe 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.

Glo. I hope the King made Peace with all of us,
And the compact is firm and true in me.

Riv. And fo in me, and fo, I think, in all,
Yet fince it is but green it should be put
To no apparent likelyhood of breach,

Which haply by much Company might be urg'd;
Therefore I fay, with Noble Buckingham,

That it is meet fo few fhould fetch the Prince.
Haft. And fo fay L.

Glo. Then be it fo, and go we to determine

Who they shall be that ftreight fhall poft to London.
Madam, and you my Sifter, will you go,

To give your Cenfures in this Bufinefs?

[Exeunt,

[Manent Buckingham and Gloucefter. Buck. My Lord, whoever journies to the Prince,

For God's fake let not us two ftay at home;

For by the way, I'll for: occafion,

As

As Index to the Story we lately talk'd of,

To part the Queen's proud Kindred from the Prince.
Glo. My other felf, my Counfel's Confiftory,
My Oracle, my Prophet, my dear Coufin,
I, as a Child, will go by thy direction.
Toward London then, for we'll not stay behind.

SCENE III.

[Exeunt.

Enter one Citizen at one Door, and another at the other.

1 Cit. Good morrow, Neighbour, whither away fo fast? 2 Cit. I promise you I hardly know my felf:

Hear you the News abroad?

1 Cit. Yes, the King is dead.

2 Cit. Ill News by'r Lady, feldom comes the better: I fear, I fear, 'twill prove a giddy World.

Enter another Citizen.

3 Cit. Neighbours, God fpeed."

1 Cit. Give you good morrow, Sir,

3 Cit. Doth the News hold of good King Edward's Death?

2 Cit. Ay, Sir, it is too true, God help the while.

3

Cit. Then Mafters look to fee a troublous World.

I Cit. No, no, by God's good Grace, his Son fhall Reign. 3 Cit. Wo to that Land that's govern'd by a Child. 2 Cit. In him there is a hope of Government: Which in his Non-age, Counfel under him, And in his full and ripened Years, himself No doubt fhall then, and 'till then govern well. I Cit. So ftood the State when Henry the Sixth Was crown'd in Paris, but at nine Months old.

3 Cit. Stood the State fo? No, no, good Friends, God wot; For then this Land was famoufly enrich'd

With politick grave Counfel; then the King

Had virtuous Uncles to protect his Grace.

1 Cit. Why fo hath this, both by his Father and Mother. 3 Cit. Better it were they all came by his Father; Or by his Father there were none at all: For Emulation, who fhall now be nearest, Will touch us all too near, if God prevent not. O full of danger is the Duke of Glo'fter, I 4

And

And the Queen's Sons, and Brothers, haught and proud:
And were they to be rul'd, and not to rule,
This fickly Land might folace as before.

1 Cit. Come, come, we fear the worst, all will be well. 3 Cit. When Clouds are feen, wife Men put on their Cloaks; When great Leaves fall, then Winter is at hand; When the Sun fets, who doth not look for Night? Untimely Storms make Men expect a Dearth: All may be well; but if God fort it fo, Tis more than we deferve, or I expect.

2 Cit. Truly the Hearts of Men are full of fear:
You cannot reason, almoft, with a Man
That looks not heavily, and full of dread.

3 Cit. Before the days of Change, ftill is it fo;
By a divine inftin&t Mens Minds mistrust
Purfuing Danger; as by proof we see
The Water fwell before a boift'rous Storm;
But leave it all to God. Whither away?

2 Cit. Marry we were fent for to the Justices.
3 Cit. And fo was I, I'll bear you Company.

SCENE IV.

[Exeunt.

Enter Archbishop of York, the young Duke of York, the
Queen, and the Dutchess.

Arch. Laft Night I heard they lay at Stony Stratford,
And at Northampton they do reft to Night:
To morrow or next day they will be here.

Dutch. I long with all my Heart to fee the Prince;
I hope he is much grown fince laft I saw him.
Queen. But I hear no, they fay my Son of York,
Has almoft overtaken him in his growth.

York. Ay, Mother, but I would not have it fo.
Dutch. Why, my good Coufin, it is good to grow.
Tork. Grandam, one Night as we did fit at Supper,
My Uncle Rivers talk'd how I did grow

More than my Brother. Ay, quoth my Uncle Glo'fter, Small Herbs have Grace, great Weeds do grow apace. And fince, methinks I would not grow fo faft,

Because sweet Flowers are flow, and Weeds make haste.

Dutch.

Dutch. Good faith, good faith, the faying did not hold In him that did object the fame to thee.

He was the wretched'ft thing when he was young,
So long a growing, and fo leifurely,

That if his Rule were true, he should be gracious,
York. And fo no doubt he is, my gracious Madam.
Dutch. I hope he is, but yet let Mothers doubt.
York. Now by my troth, if I had been remembred,
I could have given my Uncle's Grace a flout
To touch his growth, nearer than he touch'd mine.
Dutch. How, my young York,

I prithee let me hear it.

York. Marry, they fay, my Uncle grew fo faft,
That he could gnaw a Cruft at two Hours old;
'Twas full two Years e'er I could get a Tooth.
Grandam, this would have been a biting Jeft.

Dutch. I prithee, pretty Tork, who told thee this?
York. Grandam, his Nurfe.

Dutch. His Nurfe! why she was dead e'er thou waft born.
York. If 'twere not fhe, I cannot tell who told me.
Queen. A parlous Boy Go to, you are too fhrewd.
Dutch. Good Madam, be not angry with a Child.
Queen. Pitchers have Ears.

Enter a Messenger.

Arch. Here comes a Meffenger: What News?
Mef. Such News, my Lord, as grieves me to report.
Queen. How doth the Prince?

Mef. Well, Madam, and in Health.

Dutch. What is thy News?

Mef. Lord Rivers, and Lord Grey,

Are fent to Pomfret, and with them

Sir Thomas Vaughan, Prisoners.

Dutch. Who hath committed them?

Mef. The mighty Dukes, Glo'fter and Buckingham.
Arch. For what Offence?

Mef. The fum of all I can, I have difclos'd:
Why, or for what, the Nobles were committed,
Is all unknown to me, my gracious Lord.

Queen. Ah me! I fee the ruin of my House; The Tiger now hath feiz'd the gentle Hind. Infulting Tyranny begins to jut

Upon