I do not know that Englishman alive With whom my soul is any jot at odds More than the infant that is born to-night I thank my God for my humility. QUEEN ELIZABETH A holy day shall this be kept hereafter:
I would to God all strifes were well compounded.
My sovereign liege, I do beseech your majesty To take our brother Clarence to your grace. GLOUCESTER Why, madam, have I offer'd love for this To be so bouted in this royal presence?
Who knows not that the noble duke is dead?
They all start You do him injury to scorn his corse. RIVERS Who knows not he is dead! who knows he is? QUEEN ELIZABETH All seeing heaven, what a world is this! BUCKINGHAM Look I so pale, Lord Dorset, as the rest? DORSET Ay, my good lord; and no one in this presence But his red colour hath forsook his cheeks. KING EDWARD IV Is Clarence dead? the order was reversed. GLOUCESTER But he, poor soul, by your first order died, And that a winged Mercury did bear:
Some tardy cripple bore the countermand, That came too lag to see him buried.
God grant that some, less noble and less loyal, Nearer in bloody thoughts, but not in blood, Deserve not worse than wretched Clarence did, And yet go current from suspicion!
Enter DERBY DORSET A boon, my sovereign, for my service done! KING EDWARD IV I pray thee, peace: my soul is full of sorrow. DORSET I will not rise, unless your highness grant. KING EDWARD IV Then speak at once what is it thou demand'st. DORSET The forfeit, sovereign, of my servant's life;
Who slew to-day a righteous gentleman Lately attendant on the Duke of Norfolk. KING EDWARD IV Have a tongue to doom my brother's death, And shall the same give pardon to a slave?
My brother slew no man; his fault was thought, And yet his punishment was cruel death.
Who sued to me for him? who, in my rage, Kneel'd at my feet, and bade me be advised Who spake of brotherhood? who spake 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 by 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 own garments, and gave 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 grace to put it in my mind.
But when your carters or your waiting-vassals Have done a drunken slaughter, and defaced The precious image of our dear Redeemer, You straight are on your knees for pardon, pardon;
And I unjustly too, must grant it you 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 plead 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.
Oh, poor Clarence!
Exeunt some with KING EDWARD IV and QUEEN MARGARET GLOUCESTER This is the fruit 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. But come, let us in, To comfort Edward with our company. BUCKINGHAM We wait upon your grace.
