The Same. A Room in the Palace. |
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Enter the ARCHBISHOP OF YORK, the young DUKE OF YORK, QUEEN ELIZABETH, and the DUCHESS OF YORK. |
Arch. Last night, I hear, they lay at Northampton; |
At Stony-Stratford they do rest to-night: |
To-morrow, or next day, they will be here. |
Duch. I long with all my heart to see the prince. |
I hope he is much grown since last I saw him. |
Q. Eliz. But I hear, no; they say my son of York |
Hath almost overta'en him in his growth. |
York. Ay, mother, but I would not have it so. |
Duch. Why, my young cousin, it is good to grow. |
York. Grandam, one night, as we did sit at supper, |
My uncle Rivers talk'd how I did grow |
More than my brother: 'Ay,' quoth my uncle Gloucester, |
'Small herbs have grace, great weeds do grow apace:' |
And since, methinks, I would not grow so fast, |
Because sweet flowers are slow and weeds make haste. |
Duch. Good faith, good faith, the saying did not hold |
In him that did object the same to thee: |
He was the wretched'st thing when he was young, |
So long a-growing, and so leisurely, |
That, if his rule were true, he should be gracious. |
Arch. And so, no doubt, he is, my gracious madam. |
Duch. I hope he is; but yet let mothers doubt. |
York. Now, by my troth, if I had been remember'd, |
I could have given my uncle's grace a flout, |
To touch his growth nearer than he touch'd mine. |
Duch. How, my young York? I prithee, let me hear it. |
York. Marry, they say my uncle grew so fast, |
That he could gnaw a crust at two hours old: |
'Twas full two years ere I could get a tooth. |
Grandam, this would have been a biting jest. |
Duch. I prithee, pretty York, who told thee this? |
York. Grandam, his nurse. |
Duch. His nurse! why, she was dead ere thou wast born. |
York. If 'twere not she, I cannot tell who told me. |
Q. Eliz. A parlous boy: go to, you are too shrewd. |
Arch. Good madam, be not angry with the child. |
Q. Eliz. Pitchers have ears. |
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Enter a Messenger. |
Arch. Here comes a messenger. What news? |
Mess. Such news, my lord, as grieves me to report. |
Q. Eliz. How doth the prince? |
Mess. Well, madam, and in health. |
Duch. What is thy news? |
Mess. Lord Rivers and Lord Grey are sent to Pomfret, |
With them Sir Thomas Vaughan, prisoners. |
Duch. Who hath committed them? |
Mess. The mighty dukes, |
Gloucester and Buckingham. |
Arch. For what offence? |
Mess. The sum of all I can I have disclos'd: |
Why or for what the nobles were committed |
Is all unknown to me, my gracious lord. |
Q. Eliz. Ah me! I see the ruin of my house! |
The tiger now hath seiz'd the gentle hind; |
Insulting tyranny begins to jet |
Upon the innocent and aweless throne: |
Welcome, destruction, death, and massacre! |
I see, as in a map, the end of all. |
Duch. 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 toss'd, |
For me to joy and weep their gain and loss: |
And being seated, and domestic broils |
Clean over-blown, themselves, the conquerors, |
Make war upon themselves; brother to brother, |
Blood to blood, self against self: O! preposterous |
And frantic outrage, end thy damned spleen; |
Or let me die, to look on death no more. |
Q. Eliz. Come, come, my boy; we will to sanctuary. |
Madam, farewell. |
Duch. Stay, I will go with you. |
Q. Eliz. You have no cause. |
Arch. [To the QUEEN.] 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 betide to me |
As well I tender you and all of yours! |
Come; I'll conduct you to the sanctuary. [Exeunt. |
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