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 inadam.

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 pr'ythee, 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 pr'ythee, pretty York, who told thee this?

York. Grandam, his nurse.

Duch. His nurse! why, she was dead ere thou wast born.

2

York. If 'twere not she, I cannot tell who told me.
Eliz. A parlous boy! Go to, you are too shrewd.
Arch. Good madam, be not angry with the child.
Eliz. Pitchers have ears.

Enter a Messenger.

Arch. Here comes a messenger: What news?

Parlous is a popular corruption of perilous; jocularly used for alarming, amazing.

Mess. Such news, my lord, as grieves me to re

port.

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, ‹

And with them Sir Thomas Vaughan, prisoners.
Duch. Who hath committed them?

Mess.

Gloster and Buckingham.

Arch.

The mighty dukes,

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.

Eliz. Ah me! I see the ruin of my house:
The tiger now hath seiz'd the gentle hind;
Insulting tyranny begins to jet3

Upon the innocent and awless throne:
Welcome, destruction, blood, 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 overblown, themselves, the conquerors,

So in the quartos; the folio has jut, which, says Mr. Dyce, "is certainly wrong." And he adds that "to jet upon means here boldly to encroach upon." Thus in Titus Andronicus, Act ii. sc. 1" And think you not how dangerous it is to jet upon a prince's right?" And in an old manuscript play of Sir Thomas More, quoted by Mr. Dyce: "It is hard when Englishmens pacience must be thus jetted on by straungers." - Awless is unrev erenced, not looked upon with awe.

H.

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!

4

Eliz. Come, come, my boy; we will to sanctu

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

Modern editions the next line all on earth." Of

4 So in all the old copies, quarto and folio. generally read courage, following Malone. In the quartos have "look on death," the folio course the duchess refers to the slaughters that have so long filled the land.

H.

5 More's account of this is highly pathetic: "The queene hir selfe sate alone alow on the rushes, all desolate and dismaid; whome the archbishop comforted in the best manner he could, shewing hir that he trusted the matter was nothing so sore as she tooke it for. 'Madam,' quoth he, be yee of good cheere; for I assure you, if they crowne anie other king than your sonne, whome they now have with them, we shall on the morow crowne his brother, whome you have here with you. And here is the great seale, which in like wise as that noble prince your husband delivered it unto me, so here I deliver it unto you, to the use and behoofe of your sonne.' And therewith he betooke hir the great seale, and departed home againe, yet in the dawning of the daie."

ACT III.

SCENE I. London. A Street.

The Trumpets sound. Enter Prince EDWARD, RICHARD, BUCKINGHAM, Cardinal BOURCHIER,' and Others.

Buck. Welcome, sweet prince, to London, to your chamber.2

Rich. 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.

Rich. 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 jumpeth3 with the heart.

Those uncles which you want were dangerous;

Thomas Bourchier was made a cardinal, and elected archbishop of Canterbury in 1464. He died in 1486.

2 London was anciently called camera regis, that is, the king's chamber. Thus in Buckingham's speech to the citizens as given by More: "And yet be ye the people, whome he had as singular cause well and kindlie to intreat, as anie part of his realme; for that the prince, by this noble citie as his speciall chamber, and the special well renowned citie of this realme, much honourable fame receiveth among all other nations."

H.

3 To jump with is to agree with, to suit, or correspond with. Thus in 1 Henry IV.: "Well, Hal, well; and in some sort it jumps with my humour, as well as waiting in the court, I can tell you."

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.

Rich. 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 all.-
[Exeunt Mayor, &c.

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.

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
Persuad: 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.