QUEEN ELIZABETH.
A holy day shall this be kept hereafter.
I would to God all strifes were well compounded.
My sovereign lord, I do beseech your Highness
To take our brother Clarence to your grace.
RICHARD.
Why, madam, have I offered love for this,
To be so flouted in this royal presence?
Who knows not that the gentle Duke is dead?
[They all start.]
You do him injury to scorn his corse.
KING EDWARD.
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 man in the presence
But his red colour hath forsook his cheeks.
KING EDWARD.
Is Clarence dead? The order was reversed.
RICHARD.
But he, poor man, 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, and not in blood,
Deserve not worse than wretched Clarence did,
And yet go current from suspicion!