2. SCENE II. Another Room in the palace.
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.
What means this scene of rude impatience?
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 perpetual rest.
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 by 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?
Ah, aunt, you wept not for our father's death!
How can we aid you with our kindred tears?
Our fatherless distress was left unmoan'd,
Your widow-dolour likewise be unwept!
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!
Ah for our father, for our dear Lord Clarence!
Alas for both, both mine, Edward and Clarence!