SCENE changes to Baynard's Caffle. Enter Gloucester and Buckingham, at feveral doors.
Ow now, how now, what fay the citizens? Buck. Now by the holy Mother of our Lord, The citizens are mum, fay not a word.
Glo. Touch'd you the baftardy of Edward's children ?
Buck. I did, with his Contract with lady Lucy,
And his Contract by Deputy in France;
Th' unfatiate greediness of his defires,
And his enforcement of the city-wives;
His tyranny for trifles; his own bastardy,
As being got, your father then in France,
And his refemblance, being not like the Duke.
Withal, I did infer your lineaments,
Being the right idea of your father,
Both in your form and nobleness of mind:
Laid open all your victories in Scotland;
Your difcipline in war, wisdom in peace,
Your bounty, virtue, fair humility:
Indeed, left nothing fitting for the purpose
Untouch'd, or flightly handled in discourse.
And when my Oratory grew tow'rd end,
I bid them, that did love their Country's Good,
Cry, God fave Richard, England's royal King!
Glo. And did they fo?
Buck. No, fo God help me, they spake not a word; But like dumb ftatues, or unbreathing stones,
Star'd each on other, and look'd deadly pale:
Which when I faw, I reprehended them;
And ask'd the Mayor, what meant this wilful filence?
His Anfwer was, the people were not used
To be spoke to, except by the Recorder.
Then he was urg'd to tell my Tale again:
Thus faith the Duke, thus hath the Duke inferr'd,
But nothing spoke in warrant from himself.
When he had done, fome followers of mine own,
At lower end o'th' Hall, hurl'd up their caps,
And fome ten voices cry'd, God fave king Richard!
And thus I took the vantage of those few:
Thanks, gentle citizens and friends, quoth I,
This general applaufe and chearful fhout
Argues your wifdom, and your love to Richard.
And even here brake off, and came away.
Glo. What tongueless blocks were they, would they not speak?
Will not the Mayor then and his brethren come?
Buck. The Mayor is here at hand; intend fome fear; Be not you spoke with, but by mighty fuit;
And look you get a prayer-book in your hand,
And ftand between two Churchmen, good my lord;
For on that ground I'll build a holy descant:
And be not easily won to our requests:
Play the maid's part, ftill anfwer nay, and take it.
Glo. I go and if you plead as well for them,
As I can fay nay to thee, for myself;
No doubt, we'll bring it to a happy iffue.
Buck. Go, go up to the leads, the Lord Mayor knocks,
Enter Lord Mayor, and Citizens.
Welcome, my lord. I dance attendance here;
I think, the Duke will not be spoke withal.
Buck, Catesby, what says your lord to my request? Catef. He doth intreat your Grace, my noble lord, To vifit him to morrow, or next day;
He is within, with two right-reverend fathers,
Divinely bent to meditation;
And in no worldly fuits would he be mov'd,
To draw him from his holy exercise.
Buck. Return, good Catesby, to the gracious Duke;
Tell him, myself, the Mayor and Aldermen,
In deep defigns, in matter of great moment,
No lefs importing than our gen'ral Good,
Are come to have fome conf'rence with his Grace.
Catef. I'll fignifie so much unto him strait.
Buck. Ah, ah! my lord, this Prince is not an Ed-
He is not lolling on a lewd love-bed,
But on his knees at meditation :
Not dallying with a brace of Curtezans,
But meditating with two deep Divines:
Not fleeping, to engrofs his idle body,
But praying, to enrich his watchful foul.
Happy were England, would this virtuous Prince
Take on his Grace the Sov'reignity thereof;
But, fure, I fear, we shall not win him to it.
Mayor. Marry, God shield, his Grace should say us
nay!
Buck. I fear, he will; here Catesby comes again.
Catesby, what fays his Grace?
Catef. He wonders to what end you
have affembled
Such troops of Citizens to come to him,
His Grace not being warn'd thereof before:
He fears, my lord, you mean no good to him.
Buck. Sorry I am, my noble Coufin should
Sufpect me, that I mean no good to him:
By heav'n, we come to him in perfect love,
And fo once more return, and tell his Grace.
When holy and devout religious men
Are at their beads, 'tis hard to draw them thence,
So fweet is zealous Contemplation.
Enter Gloucefter above, between two Bishops.
Catesby returns.
Mayor. See, where his Grace stands 'tween two Clergymen.
Buck. Two props of Virtue, for a Christian Prince,
To stay him from the fall of Vanity:
And fee, a book of prayer in his hand,
True ornaments to know a holy man.
Famous Plantagenet! moft gracious Prince,
Lend favourable ear to our requests;
And pardon us the interruption
Of thy devotion and right-christian zeal.
Glo. My lord, there needs no fuch apology:
I do beseech your Grace to pardon me,
Who, earnest in the fervice of my God,
Deferr'd the visitation of my friends:
But leaving this, what is your Grace's pleasure ?
Buck. Ev'n That, I hope, which pleafeth God above,
And all good men of this ungovern'd Isle.
Glo. I do fufpect, I have done fome offence,
That feems difgracious in the City's eye;
And that you come to reprehend my ignorance.
Buck. You have, my lord: would it might please your
Grace,
On our entreaties, to amend your fault.
Glo. Elfe wherefore breathe I in a Chriftian Land? Buck. Know then, it is your fault that you refign The fupream Seat, the Throne majestical,
The scepter'd Office of your Ancestors,
Your State of fortune, and your due of Birth,
The lineal Glory of your royal House,
To the corruption of a blemish'd Stock:
While in the mildness of your fleepy thoughts,
Which here we waken to our Country's Good,
The noble Ifle doth want her
proper
Her face defac'd with scars of infamy,
Her royal Stock graft with ignoble plants,
And almoft shoulder'd in the Twallowing gulph
Of dark forgetfulness, and deep oblivion:
Which to re-cure, we heartily follicit
Your gracious felf to take on you the Charge
And kingly Government of this Land:
Not as Protector, Steward, Substitute,
Or lowly Factor for another's gain;
But as fucceffively, from blood to blood,
Your Right of Birth, your Empery, your own.
For this, conforted with the Citizens,
Your very worshipful and loving friends,
And by their vehement inftigation,
In this juft fuit come I to move your Grace.
Glo. I cannot tell, if to depart in filence,
Or bitterly to speak in your reproof,
Beft fitteth my degree, or your condition.
For not to anfwer, you might, haply, think,
Tongue-ty'd Ambition, not replying, yielded
To bear the golden yoak of Sov'reignty,
Which fondly you would here impofe on me.
If to reprove you for this fuit of yours,
So feafon'd with your faithful love to me,
Then, on the other fide, I check'd my friends.
Therefore to speak, and to avoid the first,
And then, in fpeaking, not incur the laft,
Definitively thus I answer you.
Your love deferves my thanks; but my defert,
Uumeritable, fhuns your high request.
First, if all obftacles were cut away,
And that my path were even to the Crown,
As the ripe revenue and due of birth;
Yet fo much is my poverty of fpirit,
So mighty and fo many my defects,
That I would rather hide me from my Greatness,
Being a Bark to brook no mighty Sea;
Than in my Greatnefs covet to be hid,
And in the vapour of my Glory fmother'd.
But, God be thank'd, there is no need of me,
And much I need to help you, were there Need:
The royal tree hath left us royal fruit,
Which, mellow'd by the ftealing hours of time,
Will well become the Seat of Majesty ;
And make us, doubtless, happy by his Reign.
On him I lay what you would lay on me,
The Right and Fortune of his happy ftars;
Which, God defend, that I fhould wring from him!
Buck. My lord, this argues confcience in your Grace,
But the refpects thereof are nice and trivial,
All circumftances well confidered.
You fay, that Edward is your brother's fon
So fay we too, but not by Edward's wife;
For firft was he contract to lady Lucy,
Your mother lives a witness to that Vow:
And afterward by Substitute betroth'd
To Bona, fifter to the King of France.
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