2 Cit. Marry we were fent for to the Juftices. 3 Cit. And fo was I, I'll bear you Company. [Exeunt
Enter Archbishop of York, the young Duke of York, the Queen, and the Dutchess.
Arch. Laft Night I heard they lay at Stony Stratford, And at Northampton they do reft to Night: To morrow or next day they will be here.
Dutch. I long with all my Heart to fee the Prince; I hope he is much grown fince last I saw him. Queen. But I hear no, they fay my Son of York Has almoft overtaken him in his growth.
York. Ay, Mother, but I would not have it fo.
Dutch. Why, my good Coufin, it is good to grow.
York. Grandam, one Night as we did fit at Supper,
My Uncle Rivers talk'd how I did grow
More than my Brother. Ay, quoth my Uncle Glofter,
Small Herbs have Grace, great Weeds do grow apace.
And fince, methinks I would not grow fo faft,
Because sweet Flowers are flow, and Weeds make haft.
Dutch. Good faith, good faith, the faying did not hold
In him that did object the fame to thee.
He was the wretched'ft thing when he was young,
So long a growing, and fo leifurely,
That if his Rule were true, he should be gracious,
York. And fo no doubt he is, my gracious Madami
Dutch. I hope he is, but yet let Mothers doubt.
York. Now by my troth, if I had been remembred,
I could have given my Uncle's Grace a flout
To touch his growth, nearer than he touch'd mine.
Dutch. How, my young York?
I prithee let me hear it.
York. Marry, they fay, my Uncle grew fo faft,
That he could gnaw a Cruft at two Hours old;
'Twas full two Years ere I could get a Tooth.
Grandam, this would have been a biting Jeft.
Dutch. I prithee, pretty York, who told thee this?
York. Granda, his Nurse,
Dutch. His Nurfe! why she was dead ere thou waft born,
Fork. If 'twere not fhe, I cannot tell who told me.
Go to, you are too fhrewd. Dutch. Good Madam, be not angry with a Child. Queen. Pitchers have Ears.
Arch. Here comes a Meffenger: What News?
Mef. Such News, my Lord, as grieves me to report.
Queen. How doth the Prince?
Mef. Well, Madam, and in Health.
Dutch. What is thy News?
Mef. Lord Rivers, and Lord Grey,
Are fent to Pomfret, and with them
Sir Thomas Vaughan, Prifoners.
Dutch. Who hath committed them?
Mef. The mighty Dukes, Glofter and Buckingham.
Arch. For what Offence?
Mef. The fum of all I can, I have disclos'd:
Why, or for what, the Nobles were committed,
Is all unknown to me, my gracious Lord.
Queen. Ah me! I fee the ruin of my House; The Tiger now hath feiz'd the gentle Hind. Infulting Tyranny begins to jut
Upon the innocent and awlefs Throne;
Welcome Destruction, Blood and Massacre,
1 fee, as in a Map, the end of all.
Dutch. Accurfed and unquiet wrangling Days;
How many of you have mine Eyes beheld;
My Husband loft his Life to get the Crown,
And often up and down my Sons were toft,
For me to joy and weep, their gain and lofs.
And being feated, and Domestick broils
Clean over blown, themselves, the Conquerors,
Make War upon themselves, Brother to Brother,
Blood to Blood, self against self: O prepoft'rous
And frantick Outrage! end thy damned Spleen,
Or let me die, to look on Earth no more.
Queen. Come, come, my Boy, we will to Sanctuary.
Madam, farewel.
Dutch. Stay, I will go with you.
Queen. You have no cause.
Arch. My gracious Lady, go,
And thither bear your Treasure and your Goods,
For my Part, I'll refign unto your Grace
The Seal I keep, and fo betide it me,
As well I tender you, and all of yours.
Go, I'll conduct you to the Sanctuary.
The Trumpets found. Enter Prince of Wales, the Dukes of Gloucester and Buckingham, Archbishop, with others.
Buck. Elcome fweet Prince to London,
Glo. Welcome dear Coufin, my thoughts Sovereign,
The weary way hath made you Melancholy.
Prince. No, Uncle, but our croffes on the Way
Have made it tedious, wearifom and heavy.
I want more Uncles here to welcome me.
Glo. Sweet Prince, the untainted Virtue of
Hath not yet div'd into the World's deceit:
No more can you distinguish of a Man,
Than of his outward fhew, which, God he knows,
Seldom or never jumpeth with the Heart.
Thofe Uncles which you want were dangerous:
Your Grace attended to their fuger'd Words,
But look'd not on the poison of their Hearts:
God keep you from them, and from fuch falfe Friends.
Prince. God keep me from false Friends,
Glo. My Lord, the Mayor of London comes to greet you. Enter Lord Mayor.
Mayor. God bless your Grace with Health and Happy Days.
Prince. I thank you, good my Lord, and thank I thought my Mother, and my Brother York,
Would long ere this have met us on the way.
Fie, what a flug is Haftings, that he comes not
To tell us, whether they will come or no.
Enter Lord Haftings.
Buck. And in good time, here comes the fweating Lord.
Prince. Welcome, my Lord, what, will our Mother come?
Haft. On what Occafion 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 with-held.
Buck. Fie, what an indirect and peevish courfe
Is this of hers? Lord Cardinal, will your Grace
Perfuade the Queen to fend the Duke of York
Unto his princely Brother prefently?
If the deny, Lord Haftings, you go with him,
And from her jealous Arms pluck him perforce.
Arch. My Lord of Buckingham, if my weak Oratory
Can from his Mother win the Duke of York,
Anon expect him here; but if the be obdurate
To mild Entreaties, God forbid
We fhould infringe the holy Privilege
Of bleffed Sanctuary; not for all this Land
Would I be guilty of fo great Sin.
Buck. You are too fenfelefs obftinate, my Lord,
Too ceremonious and traditional.
Weigh it but with the grofsnefs of this Age,
You break not Sanctuary, in feizing him;
The benefit thereof is always granted
To those whofe dealings have deferv'd the Place,
And those who have the wit to claim the Place:
This Prince hath never claim'd it, nor deserv'd it,
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.
Arch. My Lord, you shall o'er-rule my Mind for once.
Come on, Lord Haftings, will you go with me?
Haft. I go, my Lord. [Exeunt Archbishop and Haftings.
Prince. Good Lords, make all the speedy hate you may.
Say, Uncle Glofter, if our Brother come,
Where fhall we fojourn 'till our Coronation?
Glo. Where it feems beft unto your Royal self.
If I may counfel you, fome day or two
Your Highnefs fhall repofe you at the Tower:
Then where you please, and fhall be thought moft fit
For your beft Health and Recreation.
Prince. I do not like the Tower of any Place;
Did Julius Cefar build that Place, my Lord?
Buck. He did, my gracious Lord, begin that Place,
Which fince, fucceeding Ages have re-edify'd.
Prince. Is it upon Record? or elfe reported
Succeffively from Age to Age he built it?
Buck, Upon Record, my gracious Lord.
Prince. But fay, my Lord, it were not Registred,
Methinks the Truth fhould live from Age to Age,
As 'twere retail'd to all Pofterity,
Even to the general ending Day.
Glo. So wife, fo young, they fay do never live long. Prince. What fay you, Uncle?
Glo. I fay, without Characters Fame lives long. Thus, like the formal Vice, Iniquity,
I moralize two meanings in one Word.
Prince. That Julius Cafar was a famous Man;
With what his Valour did enrich his Wit,
His Wit fet down to make his Valour live:
Death makes no Conqueft of his Conqueror;
For now he lives in Fame, though not in Life.
I'll tell you what, my Confin Buckingham.
Buck. What, my gracious Lord?
Prince. And 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.
Glo. Short Summers lightly have a forward Spring.
Enter York, Haftings, and Archbishop.
Buck. Now in good time, here comes the Duke of York.
Prince. Richard of York, how fares our Noble Brother?
York. Well, my dear Lord, fo must I call you now.
Prince. Ay, Brother, to our Grief, as it is yours;
VOL. V.
C
|