Puslapio vaizdai
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No more can you diftinguish 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 poifon of their Hearts:
God keep you from them, and from fuch falfe Friends.
Prince. God keep me from falfe Friends,

But they were none.

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 you
I thought my Mother, and my Brother Tork,
Would long e'er 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 Haltings.

all:

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 Tork,
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 should infringe the holy Privilege

Of blessed Sanctuary; not for all this Land

Would I be guilty of fo great Sin.

Buck. You are too fenfelefs obftinate, my Lord, Tco ceremonious and traditional.

Weigh it but with the groffacfs 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 deferv'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 fhall o'er-rule my Mind for once. Come on, Lord Hastings, will you go with me?

Haft. I go, my Lord. [Exeunt Archbishop and Haftings. Prince. Good Lords, make all the fpeedy hafte you may. Say, Uncle Glofter, if our Brother come,

Where fhall we fojourn 'till our Coronation?

Glo. Where it feems beft unto your Royal felf.
If I may counfel you, fome day or two

Your Highness fhall repofe you at the Tower:
Then where you pleafe, and fhall be thought most fit
For your
belt Health and Recreation.

Prince. I do not like the Tower of any Place;
Did Julius Cafar 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 Regiftred,
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.

[Afide.

Prince. That Jalius Cafar was a famous Min;
With what his Valour did enrich his Wit,
His Wit fet down, to make his Valour live:

Death

Death makes no Conqueft of his Conqueror.
For now he lives in Fame, though not in Life.
I'll tell you what, my Coufin 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 Archbiflop.

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 muft I call you now.
Prince. Ay, Brother, to our Grief as it is yours;
Too late he dy'd that might have kept that Title,
Which by his Death hath loft much Majefty.

Glo. Haw fares our Coufir, Noble Lord of York?
York. I thank you, gentle Uncle. O my Lord,
You faid, that idle Weeds are faft in growth:
The Prince my Brother hath outgrown me far.
Glo. He hath, my Lord.

York. And therefore is he idle?

Glo. Oh my fair Coufin I.muft not fay fo.
York. Then he is more beholden to you than I.
Glo. He may command me as my Sovereign,
But you have power in me, as in a Kinfman.
York. I pray you, Uncle, give me this Dagger.
Glo. My Dagger, little Coufin? with all my Heart.
Prince. A Beggar, Brother?

Tork. Of my kind Uncle, that I know will give,
And being a Toy it is no grief to give.

Glo. A greater Gift than that I'll give my Coufin.
York. Agreater Gift? O, that's the Sword to it.
Glo. Ay, gentle Coufin, were it light enough.
York. O then I fee you will part but with light Gift,
In weightier things you'll fay a Beggar Nay.
Glo. It is too weighty for your Grace to wear.
Tork. 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.

Prince. My Lord of York will ever 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

Because that I am little, like an Ape,

and me,

He thinks that you should bear me on your Shoulders.
Buck. With what a fharp provided Wit he reasons:
To mitigate the Scorn he gives his Uncle,
He prettily and aptly taunts himself;
So cunning, and fo young, is wonderful.
Glo. My Lord, wilt pleafe you pafs along?,
My felf, and my good Coufin Buckingham,
Will to your Mother, to entreat of her
To meet you at the Tower, and welcome you.
Tork. What, will you go unto the Tower, my Lord?
Prince. My Lord Protector will have it fo.
York. I fhall not fleep in quiet at the Tower.
Glo. Why, what should you fear?

York. Marry, my Uncle Clarence angry Ghost:
My Grandam told me, he was murther'd there.
Prince. I fear no Uncles dead.

Glo. Nor none that live, I hope.

Prince. And if I 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, Haftings and Dorfet. Manent Gloucefter, Buckingham and Catesby. Buck. Think you, my Lord, this little prating Tork Was not incenfed by his fubtle Mother,

To taunt and fcorn you thus opprobriously?

Glo. No doubt, no doubt: Oh 'tis a parlous Boy,
Bold, quick, ingenious, forward, capable;
He is all the Mother's, from the top to toe.
Buck. Well, let them reft: Come hither, Catesby,
Thou art fworn as deeply to effect what we intend,
As closely to conceal what we impart:

Thou know'ft our Reafons urg'd upon the Way,
What think'ft thou? is it not an eafie Matter
To make William Lord Haftings of our Mind,
For the Inftalment of this Noble Duke,
In the feat Royal of this famous fle?

Catef

Catef. He for his Father's fake fo loves the Prince, That he will not be won to ought against him.

Buck, What think'ft thou then of Stanley? Will not he? Catef. He will do all in all as Haftings doth.

Buck. Well then, no more but this:

Go, gentle Catesby, and as it were far off
Sound thou Lord Haftings,

How he doth ftand affected to our Purpose,
And fummon him to Morrow to the Tower,
To fit about the Coronation.

If thou doft find him tractable to us,
Encourage him, and tell him all our Reafons:
If he be leaden, icy, cold, unwilling,
Be thou so too, and fo break off the Talk,
And give us notice of his Inclination:
For we to Morrow hold divided Councils,
Wherein thy felf fhalt highly be employ❜d.

Glo. Commend me to Lord William; tell him, Catesby,
His ancient Knot of dangerous Adverfaries
To morrow are let Blood at Pomfret Castle,
And bid my Lord, for joy of this good News,
Give Mistress Shore one gentle Kifs the more.

Buck, Good Catesby, go, effect this Bufinefs foundly.
Catef. My good Lords both, with all the heed I can.
Glo. Shall we hear from you, Catesby, e'er we fleep?
Catef. You fhall, my Lord.

Glo. At Crosby House there you fhall find us both.
Buck. Now, my Lord,
[Exit Catesby.

What shall we do, if we perceive

Lord Haftings will not yield to our Complots?

Glo. Chop off his Head:

Something we will determine:

And look when I am King, claim thou of me
The Earldom of Hereford, and all the Moveables
Whereof the King, my Brother, was poffeft.

Buck. I'll claim that promife at your Grace's Hand.
Glo. And look to have it yielded with all kindness.
Come, let us fup betimes, that afterwards
We may digeft our Complots in fome form.

[Exeunt.

SCENE

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