So long a growing, and fo leifurely,

That, if his rule were true, he should be gracious. Arch. And fo, no doubt, he is, my gracious madam.

Dutch. I hope, he is; but yet let mothers doubt.
York. Now, by my troth, if I had been remem-
ber'd,

I could have given my uncle's grace a flout,
To touch his growth, nearer than he touch'd mine.
Dutch. How, my young York? I pr'ythee, let
me hear it.

York. Marry, they fay, my uncle grew so fast,
That he could gnaw a cruft at two years old;
'Twas full two years ere I could get a tooth.
Grandam, this would have been a biting jeft.
Dutch. I pr'ythee, pretty York, who told thee this?
York. Grandam, his nurse.

Dutch. His nurfe! why, fhe was dead ere thou waft born.

York. If 'twere not fhe, I cannot tell who told me.
Queen. A parlous boy;-Go to, you are too
fhrewd.

Dutch. Good madam, be not angry with the child.
Queen. Pitchers have ears.

Enter a Messenger.

Arch. Here comes a meffenger: What news? Me. Such news, my lord, as grieves me to unfold. Queen. How doth the prince?

Me. Well, madam, and in health.

Dutch. What is thy news?

Me. Lord Rivers, and lord Grey,

Are fent to Pomfret, prifoners; and, with them,
Sir Thomas Vaughan.

Dutch.

Dutch. Who hath committed them?

Me. The mighty dukes, Glofter, and BuckingQueen. For what offence? [ham.

Me. The fum of all I can, I have difclos'd;
Why, or for what, the nobles were committed,
Is all unknown to me, my gracious lady.

Queen. Ah me, I fee the ruin of
my houfe!
The tyger now hath feiz'd the gentle hind;
Infulting tyranny begins to jut

Upon the innocent and awlefs throne:-
Welcome destruction, blood and massacre!
I fee as in a map, the end of all.

Dutch. Accurfed and unquiet wrangling days!
How many of you have mine
eyes beheld?
My husband loft his life to get the crown;
And often up and down my fons were toft,
For me to joy, and weep, their gain and lofs :
And being feated, and domeftick broils
Clean over-blown, themselves, the conquerors,
Make war upon
themselves; brother to brother,
Blood to blood, felf against felf:-O, prepofterous
And frantick outrage, end thy damned fpleen;
Or, let me die, to look on death no more!

Queen. Come, come, my boy, we will to fanctu Madam, farewell.

Dutch. Stay, I will go with you.

Queen. You have no cause.

Arch. My gracious lady, go,

[ary.

And thither bear your treasure and your goods.

For my part, I'll refign unto your grace
The feal I keep; And fo betide to me,
As well I tender you, and all of yours!

Come, I'll conduct you to the fanctuary. [Exeunt.

E 3

ACT

ACT III.

SCENE I. In London.

The trumpets found. Enter the Prince of WALES, the Dukes of GLOSTER and BUCKINGHAM, Cardinal BOURCHIER, and others.

Buckingham.

WELCOME, Sweet Prince, to London, to your cham

ber.

Glo. Welcome, dear coufin, my thoughts? fovereign:

The weary way hath made you melancholy.

Prince. No, uncle; but our croffes on the way Have made it tedious, wearifome, and heavy : I want more uncles here to welcome me.

Glo. Sweet prince, the untainted virtue of your Hath not yet div'd into the world's deceit : [years No more can you distinguish of a man,

Than of his outward fhew; which, God he knows,
Seldom, or never, jumpeth with the heart.
Thofe uncles, which you want, were dangerous;
Your grace attended to their fugar'd words,
But look'd not on the poifon of their hearts:
God keep you from them, and from fuch false friends!
Prince. God keep me from falfe friends! but they

were none.

Glo. My lord, the mayor of London comes to

greet you.

Enter

Enter the Lord-Mayor, and his train. Mayor. 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 flug is Haftings! 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?

Haft. On what occafion, God he knows, not I, The queen your mother, and your brother York, Have taken fanctuary: 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 her's?-Lord Cardinal, will your grace
Perfuade the queen to fend the duke of York
Unto his princely brother presently?

If the deny-Lord Haftings, you 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 fhould infringe the holy privilege
Of bleffed fanctuary! not for all this land,
Would I be guilty of fo deep a fin.

Buck. You are too fenfelefs-obftinate, my lord,

Too

Too ceremonious, and traditional:

Weigh it but with the groffnefs of this age,
You break not fanctuary in feizing him.
The benefit thereof is always granted

To thofe whofe dealings have deferv'd the place,
And those who have the wit to claim the place,
This prince hath neither claim'd it, nor deferv'd it;
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 fanctuary men;

But fanctuary children, ne'er till now.

Card. My lord, you fhall o'er-rule my mind for

once.

Come on, lord Haftings, will you go with me?
Haft. I go, my lord.

Prince. Good lords, make all the speedy hafte you

may. [Exeunt Cardinal, and HASTINGS.

Say, uncle Glofter, if our brother come,
Where fhall we fojourn till our coronation?
Glo. Where it feems beft unto our royal felf.
If I may counsel you, fome day, or two,
Your highnefs fhall repofe you at the Tower:
Then where you pleafe, and fhall be thought most fit
For your best health and recreation.

Prince. I do not like the Tower, of any place:Did Julius Cæfar build that place, my lord?

Gla. He did, my gracious lord, begin that place; Which, fince, fucceeding ages have re-edified. Prince. Is it upon record; or elfe reported Succeffively from age to age, he built it? Buck. Upon record, my gracious lord.

Prince. But fay, my lord, it were not register'd; Methinks, the truth fhould live from age to age,

As