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ACT III.

SCENE I.-The same. A Street.

The trumpets sound. Enter the Prince of WALES, GLOSTER, BUCKINGHAM, 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 the 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.

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 [Exeunt Mayor, &c.

all.

I thought my mother, and my brother York,
Would long ere this have met us on the way:
Fye, what a slug is Hastings! that he comes not
To tell us, whether they will come, or no.

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. Fye! 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 deep 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 and HASTINGS.

Say, uncle Gloster, 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?

Glo. 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. So wise so young, they say, do ne'er live long.

Prince. What say you, uncle?

[Aside.

Glo. I say, without charácters, fame lives long. 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. 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.

Aside.

Glo. Short summers lightly have a forward spring.

Enter YORK, HASTINGS, and the Cardinal.

[Aside.

Buck. Now, in good time, here comes the duke of

York.

Prince. Richard of York! how fares our loving bro

ther?

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 is he 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, then, 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?

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