ACT THE THIRD.

SCENE I.

A Street.

The trumpets sound. Enter the Prince of WALEs, GLOSTER, BUCKINGHAM, Cardinal BOUCHIER, and others.

Buck. Welcome, sweet prince, to London, to your chamber.

Glo. Welcome, dear cousin, my thoughts' sove

reign:

The weary way hath made you melancholy.
Prince. No, uncle; but our crosses on the
Have made it tedious, wearisome, and heavy:
I want more uncles here to welcome me.

way

Glo. Sweet prince, the untainted virtue of your

years

Hath not yet div'd into the world's deceit :
No more can you distinguish of a man,

Than of his outward show; which, heaven knows,
Seldom, or never, jumpeth with the heart.
Those uncles, which you want, were dangerous;
Your grace attended to the sugar'd words,
But look'd not on the poison of their hearts:
God keep you from them, and from such false
friends.

Prince. God keep me from false friends! but they were none.

Glo. My lord, the mayor of London comes to greet you.

Enter the Lord Mayor, and his Train.

May. God bless your grace with health and happy days!

Prince. I thank you, good my lord, and thank [Exeunt Mayor, &c.

you all.

I thought my mother, and my brother York,
Would long ere this have met us on the

way: Fye! what a slug is Hastings, that he comes not To tell us, whether they will come, or no.

Enter HASTINGS.

Buck. And in good time, here comes the sweating lord.

Prince. Welcome, my lord: What, will our mother come?

Hast. On what occasion, heaven knows, not I, The queen your mother, and your

brother York, Have taken sanctuary: The tender prince

Would fain have come with me to meet your grace, But by his mother was perforce withheld.

Buck. Fye! what an indirect and peevish course Is this of hers? Lord cardinal, will your grace Persuade the queen to send the duke of York Unto his princely brother presently?

If she deny, lord Hastings, go with him.
And from her jealous arms pluck him perforce.
Card. My lord of Buckingham, if my weak
oratory

Can from his mother win the duke of York,
Anon expect him here: But if she be obdurate
To mild entreaties, God in heaven forbid
We should infringe the holy privilege

Of blessed sanctuary! not for all this land,
Would I be guilty of so deep a sin.

Buck. You are too senseless-obstinate, my lord,

Too ceremonious, and traditional :

Weigh it but with the grossness of this age,
You break not sanctuary in seizing him.
The benefit thereof is always granted

To those whose dealings have deserv'd the place,
And those who have the wit to claim the place:

This prince hath neither claim'd it, nor deserv'd it,
And therefore, in mine opinion cannot have it:
Then, taking him from thence, that is not there,
You break no privilege nor charter there.
Oft have I heard of sanctuary men;

But sanctuary children, ne'er till now.

Card. My lord, you shall o'er-rule my mind for

once.

Come on, lord Hastings, will you go with me?
Hast. I go, my lord.

Prince. Good lords, make all the speedy haste you may. [Exeunt Cardinal and HASTINGS. Say, uncle Gloster, if our brother come, Where shall we sojourn till our coronation? Glo. Where it seems best unto your royal self. may counsel you, some day or two,

If I

Your highness shall repose you at the Tower: Then where you please, and shall be thought most fit

For your best health, and recreation.

Prince. I do not like the Tower, of any place:Did Julius Cæsar build that place, my lord?

Glo. He did, my gracious lord, begin that place; Which, since, succeeding ages have re-edified. Prince. Is it upon record? or else reported Successively from age to age he built it? Buck. Upon record, my gracious lord. Prince. But say, my lord, it were not register'd; Methinks the truth should live from age to age, As 'twere retailed to all posterity,

Even to the general all-ending day.

Glo. So wise so young, they say, do ne'er live

long.

Prince. What say you, uncle?

[Aside.

Glo. I say, without charácters, fame lives long. 'Thus, like the formal vice, Iniquity,

I moralize too meanings in one word. } [Aside.

4 Sensible Vice, the buffoon in the old plays.

Prince. That Julius Cæsar was a famous man ; With what his valour did enrich his wit, His wit set down to make his valour live: Death makes no conquest of this conqueror; For now he lives in fame, though not in life. I'll tell you what, my cousin Buckingham. Buck. What, my gracious lord?

Prince. An if I live until I be a man, I'll win our ancient right in France again, Or die a soldier, as I liv'd a king.

5

Glo. Short summers lightly have a forward

spring.

[Aside.

Enter YORK, HASTINGS, and the Cardinal.

Buck. Now, in good time, here comes the duke of York.

Prince. Richard of York! how fares our loving brother?

York. Well, my dread lord; so must I call you

now,

Prince. Ay, brother; to our grief, as it is yours; Too late he died, that might have kept that title, Which by his death hath lost much majesty.

Glo. How fares our cousin, noble lord of York? York. I thank you, gentle uncle. O, my lord, You said, that idle weeds are fast in growth: The prince, my brother hath outgrown me far. Glo. He hath, my lord.

York.

And therefore is he idle? Glo. O, my fair cousin, I must not say so. York. Then is he more beholden to you, than I. Glo. He may command me, as my sovereign; you have power in me, as in a kinsman.

But

York. I pray you, uncle, then, give me this dagger.

Glo. My dagger, little cousin? with all my heart.

Prince. A beggar, brother?,

York. Of my kind uncle, that I know will give; And, being but a toy, which is no grief to give. Glo. A greater gift than that I'll give my cousin. York. A greater gift! O, that's the sword to it? Glo. Ay, gentle cousin, were it light enough. York. O then, I see, you'll part but with light gifts;

In weightier things you'll say a beggar nay.
Glo. It is too weighty for your grace to wear.
York. I weigh it lightly, were it heavier.

Glo. What, would you have my weapon, little

lord?

York. I would, that I might thank you as you call me.

Glo. How?
York. Little.

Prince. My lord of York will still be cross in

talk;

Uncle, your grace knows how to bear with him. York. You mean, to bear me, not to bear with

Uncle, my brother mocks both

you

and me;

Because that I am little, like an ape,

He thinks that you should bear me shoulders.

on your

Buck. With what a sharp-provided wit he

reasons!

To mitigate the scorn he gives his uncle,

He prettily and aptly taunts himself:
So cunning, and so young, is wonderful.

Glo. My gracious lord, will't please you pass along?

Myself, and my good cousin Buckingham,
Will to your mother; to entreat of her,

To meet you at the Tower, and welcome you. York. What, will you go unto the Tower, my lord?

Prince. My lord protector needs will have it so.