Sivut kuvina

Upon the innocent and awless Throne;
Welcome Deftru&ion, Blood and Massacre,
I see, as in a Map, the end of all.

Dutch. Accursed and unquiet wrangling Days,
How many of you have mine Eyes beheld;
My Husband lost his Life to get the Crown,
And often up and down my Sons were tost,
For me to joy and weep, their gain and loss.
And being seated, and Domestick broils
Clean over blown, themselves, the Conquerors,
Make War upon themselves, Brother to Brother,
Blood to Blood, self against self: O prepost'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.
Duerch. Sray, I will go


you. Queen. You have no cause.

Arch. My gracious Lady, go,
And thither bear your Treasure and your Goods, ;
For my part, I'll resign unto your Grace
The Seal I keep, and so beride it me,
As well I tender you, and all of yours.
Go, I'll condu& you to the Sanctuary.



The Trumpets found. Enter Prince of Wales, the Dukes of

Gloucester and Buckingham, Archbishop, with others.

Buck. Elcome sweet Prince to London,

To your Chamber.
Glo. Welcome dear Cousin, my thoughts Sovereign,

weary way hath made you Melancholy.
Prince. No, Uncle, but our crosses on the Way
Have made it tedious, wearisom 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:


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No more can you distinguish of a Man,
Than of his outward fhey, which, God he knows,
Seldom or never jumpeth with the Heart.
Those 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 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 Lord Mayor. Mayor. God bless your Grace with Health and Happy Days. Prince. I thank you, good my Lord, and thank you

all: I thought my Mother, and my Brother York, Would long e'er this have met us on the way. Fie, what a fug is Hastings, that he comes not To tell us, whether they will come or no.

Enter Lord Hastings. Buck. And in good time, here comes the sweating Lord. Prince. Welcome, my Lord; what, will our Mother comes

Hast. On what Occasion God he knows, not I,
The Queen your Mother, and your

Brother York,
Have taken San&uary; 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 peevith 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, 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 she 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 senseless obstinate, my Lord,
Tco 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 desery'd the Place,
And those who have the wit to claim the Place:
This Prince hath never claim'd it, nor descrv'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 San&uary Men,
But San&tuary Children, ne'er 'till now.

Arch. 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. [Exeunt Archbishop and Hastings.

Prince. Good Lords, make all the speedy haste you may,
Say, Uncle Gloster, if our Brother come,
Where Mall we sojourn 'till our Coronation?

Glo. Where it seems best unto your Royal self.
If I may counsel yon, some day or two
Your Highness Niall repose you at the Tower:
Then where you pleafe, and shall be thought most fit
For your best Health and Recreation.

Prince. I do not like the Tower of any Place;
Did Julius Cæfar build that Place, my Lord?

Buck. He did, my gracious Lord, begin that Place, Which lince, fucceeding Ages have re-edify’d.

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 Registred,
Methinks the Truth should live from Age to Ages
As 'were retail'd to all Pofterity
Even to the general ending Day.'

Glo. So wise, so young, they say do never live long.
Prince. What say you, Uncle?

Glo. I say, without Characters Fame lives long.
Thus, like the formal Vice, Iniquity, [Aide.
I moralize two meanings in one Word.

Prince. Thar Julius Cæfar was a famous Mini
With what his Valour did enrich his Wit,
His Wit let down, to make his Valour live:


Death makes no Conquest of his 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. 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, Hastings, and Archbisi:op.
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, so muft I call you now.

Prince. Ay, Brother, to our Grief as it is your ; Too late he dy'd that might have kept that Title, Which by his Death hath loft much Majesty.

Glo. Haw fares our Cousir, Noble Lord of Yerk?

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. Oh my fair Cousin I must not say so.
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 Kinsman.

York. I pray you, Uncle, give me this Dagger.
Glo. My Dagger, little Cousin? with all my Heart.
Prince. A Beggar, Brother?

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

Glo. A greater Gift than that I'll give my Coufin.
Tork. A greater Gift? O, that's the Sword to it.
Glo. Ay, gentle Cousin, were it light enough.

York. O then I see you will part but with light Gift,
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?
Tork. Little.


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 and me,
Because that I am little, like an Ape,
He thinks that you should bear me on your Shoulders.

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 to young, is wonderful.

Glo. My Lord, wilt pleafe you pass along?,
My felf

, 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 will have it so.
Tork. I shall not sleep in quiet at the Tover.
Glo. Why, what thould 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, Hastings and Dorfer:
Manent Gloucester, Buckingham and Catesby.
Buck. Think you, my Lord, this little prating Tork
Was not incensed by his subtle Mother,
To taunt and scorn you thus opprobriously?

Glo. No doubt, no doubt: Oh ’ris a párlous 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 sworn as deeply to effect what we intend
As closely to conceal what we impart:
Thou know'st our Reasons urg'd upon the Way,
What think'st thou? is it not an eafie Matter
To make William Lord Hastings of our Mind,
For the Instalment of this Noble Duke,
In the seat Royal of this famous Isle ?


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