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Bury your griefs in the dead Edward's gravem
tions ! New tears for Edward, gone, and fears for Edward,
Buck. Judge not so hardly, madam, of his love : Your son will find in him, a father's care.
Enter Gloster, behind. Glost. Why, ah! these tears look well—Sorrow's
Buck. These words would make him weep, I know
See, where he comes, in sorrow for our loss.
ingham, I am yours.
[Weeps. Buck. Good morning to your grace.
Buck. We may remember ; but our argument,
Madam, my mother, I do cry you mercy,
Heav'n Endow thy breast with meekness, and obedience !
Glost. Amen, and make me die a good old man! That's the old but-end of a mother's blessiug ;--I marvel, that her grace did leave it out! [Aside. Buck. My lords, I think 'twere fit, that, now,
Prince Edward Forthwith, from Ludlow, should be sent for, home, In order to his coronation. Glost. By all means, my lord ;-Come, let's in, to
counsel, And appoint, who shall be the messengers : Madam, and you, my sister, please you, go To give your sentiments on this occasion. Queen. My lord, your wisdom needs no help from
me, My glad consent you have, in all tbat's just, Or for the people's good, though I suffer by't. Glost. 'Please you to retire, madam; we shall pro
pose, What you'll not think the people's wrongs, nor yours. Queen. May Heaven prosper all your good intent!
(Exeunt all but Gloster and BUCKINGHAM. Glost. Amen, with all my heart !—for mine's the
crown, And is not that a good one?-ha! pray'd she not
well, cousin ? Buck. I hope she prophesy'd--you now stand fair. Glost. Now, by St. Paul, I feel it here! methinks The massy weight on't, galls my laden brow: What think'st thou, cousin, wer't not an easy matter To get Lord Stanley's hand, to help it on?
Buck. My lord, I doubt that; for his father's sake,
Bury your griefs in the dead Edward's grave—
Enter GLost ER, behind.
Glost. Why, ahl these tears look well—Sorrow's the mode, And every one at court must wear it now :With all my heart; I’ll not be out of fashion. [Aside. Queen. My lord, just Heaven knows, I never hated Gloster | But would, on any terms, embrace his friendship. Buck. These words would make him weep—I know him yours.See, where he comes, in sorrow for our loss. Glost. My lords, good morrow—Cousin of Buckingham, I am yours. [Weeps. Buck. Good morning to your grace. Glost. Methinks, We meet, like men that had forgot to speak. Buck. We may remember; but our argument, Is now too mournful to admit such talk. Glost. It is, indeed! Peace be with him, that made it so | Sister, take comfort ; ’tis true, we've all cause To mourn the dimming of our shining star; But sorrow never could revive the dead; And if it could, hope would prevent our tears; So we must weep, because we weep in vain.
ACT THE THIRD.
PRINCE Edward, GLost ER, BucKINGHAM, Lord STANLEY, TREssel, and ATTEN DANTs, discowered.
Glost. Now, my royal cousin, welcome to London | Welcome to all those honour’d dignities, Which, by your father's will, and by your birth, You stand the undoubted heir possessed of ! And, if my plain simplicity of heart, May take the liberty to show itself, You're farther welcome to your uncle's care And love—Why do you sigh, my lord That weary way has made you melancholy. P. Ed. No, uncle; but our crosses on the way, Have made it tedious, wearisome, and heavy: I want more uncles here to welcome me. Tressel. More uncles what means his highness? Stanley. Why, sir, the careful Duke of Gloster, has Secur'd his kinsmen on the way.—Lord Rivers, Gray, Sir Thomas Vaughan, and others of his friends, Are prisoners now in Pomfret Castle: On what pretence it boots not, there they are ; Let the devil and the duke alone to accuse them. Glost. My lord, the Mayor of London comes to greet you.
Enter Lord MAYoF and Two ALDERMEN.
Lord M. Vouchsafe, most gracious sovereign, to accept The general homage of your royal city: We farther beg your royal leave, to speak, In deep condolement of your father's loss; And, as far as our true sorrow would permit, To'gratulate your accession to the throne. P. Ed. I thank you, good my lord, and thank you all. Alas! my youth is yet unfit to govern, Therefore, the sword of justice is in abler hands; But be assur'd of this, so much already I perceive I love you, that though I know not yet To do you offices of good; yet this I know, I'll sooner die, than basely do you wrong. Glost. So wise, so young, they say, do ne'er live long. [Aside. P. Ed, My lords, I thought my mother, and my brother, York, Would, long ere this, have met us on the way: Say, uncle Gloster, if our brother come, Where shall we sojourn till our coronation? Glost. Where it shall seem best to your royal self. May I advise you, sir, some day or two, Your highness shall repose you at the Tower; Then, where you please, and shall be thought most fit For your best health and recreation. P. Ed. Why at the Tower But, be it as you please. Buck. My lord, your brother's Grace of York.
Enter Duke and Duchess of York.
P. Ed. Richard of York how fares our dearest brother [Embracing.