The Same. A Street. |
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The Trumpets sound. Enter the PRINCE OF WALES, GLOUCESTER, BUCKINGHAM, CATESBY, CARDINAL BOURCHIER, and Others. |
Buck. Welcome, sweet prince, to London, to your chamber. |
Glo. Welcome, dear cousin, my thoughts' sovereign; |
The weary way hath made you melancholy. |
Prince. No, uncle; but our crosses on the way |
Have made it tedious, wearisome, 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 more can you distinguish of a man |
Than of his outward show; which, God he knows, |
Seldom or never jumpeth with the heart. |
Those uncles which you want were dangerous; |
Your Grace attended to their sugar'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. |
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Enter the Lord Mayor and his Train. |
May. 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 ere this have met us on the way: |
Fie! what a slug is Hastings, that he comes not |
To tell us whether they will come or no. |
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Enter HASTINGS. |
Buck. And in good time here comes the sweating lord. |
Prince. Welcome, my lord. What, will our mother come? |
Hast. On what occasion, 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 withheld. |
Buck. Fie! what an indirect and peevish 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, go with him, |
And from her jealous arms pluck him perforce. |
Card. 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 in heaven forbid |
We should infringe the holy privilege |
Of blessed sanctuary! not for all this land |
Would I be guilty of so great a sin. |
Buck. You are too senseless-obstinate, my lord, |
Too 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 deserv'd the place |
And those who have the wit to claim the place: |
This prince hath neither claim'd it, nor deserv'd it; |
And 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. |
Card. 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. |
Prince. Good lords, make all the speedy haste you may. [Exeunt CARDINAL BOURCHIER and HASTINGS. |
Say, uncle Gloucester, if our brother come, |
Where shall we sojourn till our coronation? |
Glo. Where it seems best unto your royal self. |
If I may counsel you, some day or two |
Your highness shall repose you at the Tower: |
Then where you please, and shall be thought most fit |
For your best health and recreation. |
Prince. I do not like the Tower, of any place: |
Did Julius Cæsar build that place, my lord? |
Buck. He did, my gracious lord, begin that place, |
Which, since, succeeding ages have re-edified. |
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 register'd, |
Methinks the truth should live from age to age, |
As 'twere retail'd to all posterity, |
Even to the general all-ending day. |
Glo. [Aside.] So wise so young, they say, do never live long. |
Prince. What say you, uncle? |
Glo. I say, without characters, fame lives long. |
[Aside.] Thus, like the formal Vice, Iniquity, |
I moralize two meanings in one word. |
Prince. That Julius Cæsar was a famous man; |
With what his valour did enrich his wit, |
His wit set down to make his valour live: |
Death makes no conquest of this 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. An 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. [Aside.] Short summers lightly have a forward spring. |
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Enter YORK, HASTINGS, and CARDINAL BOURCHIER. |
Buck. Now, in good time, here comes the Duke of York. |
Prince. Richard of York! how fares our loving brother? |
York. Well, my dread lord; so must I call you now. |
Prince. Ay, brother, to our grief, as it is yours: |
Too late he died that might have kept that title, |
Which by his death hath lost much majesty. |
Glo. How fares our cousin, noble Lord of York? |
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. O, my fair cousin, I must not say so. |
York. Then he is more beholding 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? |
York. Of my kind uncle, that I know will give; |
And, being but a toy, which is no grief to give. |
Glo. A greater gift than that I'll give my cousin. |
York. A greater gift! O, that's the sword to it. |
Glo. Ay, gentle cousin, were it light enough. |
York. O, then, I see, you'll part but with light gifts; |
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? |
York. Little. |
Prince. My Lord of York will still 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 so young is wonderful. |
Glo. My lord, will't please you pass along? |
Myself 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 needs will have it so. |
York. I shall not sleep in quiet at the Tower. |
Glo. Why, what would you fear? |
York. Marry, my uncle Clarence' angry ghost: |
My grandam told me he was murder'd there. |
Prince. I fear no uncles dead. |
Glo. Nor none that live, I hope. |
Prince. An if they live, I hope, I need not fear. |
But come, my lord; and, with a heavy heart, |
Thinking on them, go I unto the Tower. [Sennet. Exeunt all but GLOUCESTER, BUCKINGHAM, and CATESBY. |
Buck. Think you, my lord, this little prating York |
Was not incensed by his subtle mother |
To taunt and scorn you thus opprobriously? |
Glo. No doubt, no doubt: O! 'tis a parlous boy; |
Bold, quick, ingenious, forward, capable: |
He's all the mother's, from the top to toe. |
Buck. Well, let them rest. 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 easy matter |
To make William Lord Hastings of our mind, |
For the instalment of this noble duke |
In the seat royal of this famous isle? |
Cate. He for his father's sake so loves the prince |
That he will not be won to aught against him. |
Buck. What think'st thou then of Stanley? what will he? |
Cate. He will do all in all as Hastings doth. |
Buck. Well then, no more but this: go, gentle Catesby, |
And, as it were far off, sound thou Lord Hastings, |
How he doth stand affected to our purpose; |
And summon him to-morrow to the Tower, |
To sit about the coronation. |
If thou dost find him tractable to us, |
Encourage him, and tell him all our reasons: |
If he be leaden, icy-cold, unwilling, |
Be thou so too, and so break off the talk, |
And give us notice of his inclination; |
For we to-morrow hold divided councils, |
Wherein thyself shalt highly be employ'd. |
Glo. Commend me to Lord William: tell him, Catesby, |
His ancient knot of dangerous adversaries |
To-morrow are let blood at Pomfret Castle; |
And bid my lord, for joy of this good news, |
Give Mistress Shore one gentle kiss the more. |
Buck. Good Catesby, go, effect this business soundly. |
Cate. My good lords both, with all the heed I can. |
Glo. Shall we hear from you, Catesby, ere we sleep? |
Cate. You shall, my lord. |
Glo. At Crosby-place, there shall you find us both. [Exit CATESBY. |
Buck. Now, my lord, what shall we do if we perceive |
Lord Hastings 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 stood possess'd. |
Buck. I'll claim that promise at your Grace's hand. |
Glo. And look to have it yielded with all kindness. |
Come, let us sup betimes, that afterwards |
We may digest our complots in some form. [Exeunt. |
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