Glo. Sweet prince, the untainted virtue of your years Hath not yet div'd into the world's deceit : Than of his outward show; which, God he knows, 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! you all. Prince. I thank you, good my lord ;-and thank Exeunt Mayor, &c. 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, God he 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, Of blessed sanctuary! not for all this land, Buck. You are too senseless-obstinate, my lord, Too ceremonious, and traditional : Weigh it but with the grossness of this age, To those whose dealings have deserv'd the place, 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? Prince. Good lords, make all the speedy haste you 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? Prince. But say, my lord, it were not register'd ; Methinks, the truth should live from age to age, As 'twere retail'd to all posterity, Even to the general all-ending day. Glo. So wise so young, they say, do ne'er live long. [Aside. Glo. I say, without charácters, fame lives long. Thus, like the formal* vice, Iniquity, Prince. What say you, uncle? I moralize two meanings in one word. [Aside. 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, Glo. Short summers lightly† have a forward spring. Enter York, Hastings, and the Cardinal. [Aside. 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: * Sensible vice, the buffoon in the old plays. The prince my brother hath outgrown me far. 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; But you have power in me, as in a kinsman. 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 ; In weightier things you'll say a beggar, nay. 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 me : Uncle, my brother mocks both you and me; He thinks that you should bear me on your shoul ders. 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. York. I shall not sleep in quiet at the Tower. Glo. Why, sir, what should you fear? York. Marry, my uncle Clarence' angry ghost; My grandam told me, he was murder'd there. Prince. I fear no uncles dead. Glo. Nor none that live, I hope. Prince. An if they live, I hope, I need not fear. But come, my lord, and with a heavy heart, Thinking on them, go I unto the Tower. [Exeunt Prince, York, Hastings, Cardinal, and attendants. Buck. Think you, my lord, this little prating Was not incensed by his subtle mother, Come hither, gentle Catesby; thou art sworn As closely to conceal what we impart : Thou know'st our reasons urg'd upon the way; In the seat royal of this famous isle ? Cate. He for his father's sake so loves the prince, That he will not be won to aught against him. Buck. What think'st thou then of Stanley? will not he? |