Glo. Amen, and make me die a good old Man, Buck. You cloudy Princes, and heart-forrowing Peers, The broken rancor of your high-fwoln hates, Buck. Marry, my Lord, left, by a Multitude, Glo. I hope the King made Peace with all of us, Which haply by much Company might be urg'd; That it is meer fo few fhould fetch the Prince. Glo. Then be it fo, and go we to determine Who they fhall be that ftreight fhall poft to London. To give your Cenfures in this Bufinefs? [Excunt. [Manent Buckingham and Gloucefter. Buck. My Lord, whoever journies to the Prince, For God's take let not us two ftay at home; For by the way, El fort occafion, As As Index to the Story we lately talk'd of, To part the Queen's proud Kindred from the Prince. SCENE III. [Exeunt. Enter one Citizen at one Door, and another at the other. 1 Cit. Good morrow, Neighbour, whither away so fast? 2 Cit. I promife you I hardly know my self: Hear you the News abroad? I Cit. Yes, the King is dead. 2 Cit. Ill News by'r Lady, feldom comes the better: I fear, I fear, 'twill prove a giddy World. Exter another Citizen. 3 Cit. Neighbours, God speed. I Cit. Give you good morrow, Sir. 3 Cit. Doth the News hold of good King Edward's Death? 2 Cit. Ay, Sir, it is too true, God help the while. 3 Cit. Then Mafters look to fee a troublous World. 1 Cit. No, no, by God's good Grace, his Son fhall Reign. 3 Cit. Wo to that Land that's govern'd by a Child. 2 Cit. In him there is a hope of Government: Which in his Non-age, Counfel under him, And in his full and ripened Years, himself No doubt shall then, and 'till then govern well. 1 Cit. So ftood the State when Henry the Sixth Was crown'd in Paris, but at nine Months old. 3 Cit. Stood the State fo? No, no, good Friends, God wot; For then this Land was famoufly enrich'd With politick grave Counfel; then the King Had virtuous Uncles to protect his Grace. 1 Cit. Why fo hath this, both by his Father and Mother. 3 Cit. Better it were they all came by his Father; Or by his Father there were note at all: For Emulation, who fhall now be nearest, And And the Queen's Sons, and Brothers, baught and proud: This fickly Land might folace as before. I Cit. Come, come, we fear the worst, all will be well. 3 Cit. When Clouds are feen, wife Men put on their Cloaks ; When great Leaves fall, then Winter is at hand; When the Sun fets, who doth not look for Night? 2 Cit. Truly the Hearts of Men are full of fear: The Water fwell before a boift'rous Storm; 2 Cit. Marry we were fent for to the Juftices. 3 Cit. And fo was I, I'll bear you Company. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. Enter Archbishop of York, the young Duke of York, the Arch. Laft Night I heard they lay at Stony Stratford, Dutch. I long with all my Heart to fee the Prince; I hope he is much grown fince laft I faw him. Has almoft overtaken him in his growth. York. Ay, Mother, but I would not have it fo. More than my Brother. Ay, quoth my Uncle Glofter, Becaufe fweet Flowers are flow, and Weeds make hafte. Duich. 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, That if his Rule were true, he fhould be gracious. I prithee let me hear it. York. Marry, they fay, my Uncle grew fo faft, Dutch. His Nurfe! why fhe was dead e'er thou waft born. Enter a Meffenger. Arch. Here comes a Meffenger: What News? Mef. Well, Madam, and in Health. Dutch. What is thy News? Mef. Lord Rivers, and Lord Grey, Are fent to Pomfret, and with them Dutch. Who hath committed them? Mef. The mighty Dukes, Glo'fler and Buckingham. Mef. The fum of all I can, I have difclos'd: Queen. Ah me! I fee the ruin of my Houfe; The Tiger now hath feiz'd the gentle Hind. Infulting Tyranny begins to jut Upon Upon the innocent and awless Throne; Dutch. Accurfed and unquiet wrangling Days, Clean over blown, themselves, the Conquerors, Queen, Come, come, my Boy, we will to Sanctuary, Dutch. Stay, I will go with you. Arch. My gracious Lady, go, And thither bear your Treafure and your Goods, As well I tender you, and all of yours. [Exeunt. The Trumpets found. Enter Prince of Wales, the Dukes of Gloucester and Buckingham, Archbishop, with others. Buck To Your Chamber. 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 your Years Hath not yet div'd into the World's deceit : No |