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Upon the innocent and awless Throne;
Welcome Destruction, Blood and Maffacre,
I fee, as in a Map, the end of all.

Dutch. Accursed 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 Sons were tost,
For me to joy and weep, their gain and loss.
And being feated, and Domestick broils
Clean over blown, themselves, the Conquerors,
Make War upon themselves, Brother to Brother,
Blood to Blood, self against self: O prepost'rous
And frantick Outrage! end thy damned Spleen,
Or let me die, to look on Earth no more.

Queen. Come, come, my Boy, we will to Sanctuary. Madam, farewel.

Dutch. Stay, I will go with you.
Queen. You have no caufe.

Arch. My gracious Lady, go,

And thither bear your Treasure and your Goods,

For my part, I'll resign unto your Grace

The Seal I keep, and so betide it me,
As well I tender you, and all of yours.

Go, I'll conduct you to the Sanctuary.

ACT III. SCENE I.

[Exeunt.

The Trumpets found. Enter Prince of Wales, the Dukes of Gloucester and Buckingham, Archbishop, with others.

Elcome sweet Prince to London,

Back.

W

To your Chamber.

Glo. Welcome dear Coufin, my thoughts Sovereign,

The weary way hath made you Melancholy.

Prince. No, Uncle, but our croffes on the Way

Have made it tedious, wearisom and heavy.

I want more Uncles here to welcome me.

Gla. Sweet Prince, the untainted Virtue of your Years

Hath not yet div'd into the World's deceit:

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No more can you distinguish of a Man,
Than of his outward shew, which, God he knows,
Seldom or never jumpeth with the Heart.
Those Uncles which you want were dangerous:
Your Grace attended to their suger'd Words,
But look'd not on the poison of their Hearts:
God keep you from them, and from fuch 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 Lord Mayor.

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 e'er this have met us on the way. Fie, what a flug is Hastings, that he comes not To tell us, whether they will come or no. Enter Lord Hastings.

Buck. And in good time, here comes the sweating Lord.
Prince. Welcome, my Lord; what, will our Mother come?
Haft. 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 with-held.

Buck. Fie, what an indirect and prevish course
Is this of hers? Lord Cardinal, will your Grace
Perfuade the Queen to send the Duke of York
Unto his princely Brother presently ?
If the deny, Lord Hastings, you go with him,
And from her jealous Arms pluck him perforce.

Arch. My Lord of Buckingham, if my weak Oratory

Can from his Mother win the Duke of York,
Anon expect him here; but if the be obdurate

To mild Entreaties, God forbid

We should infringe the holy Privilege

Of blessed Sanctuary; not for all this Land

Would I be guilty of so great Sin.

Too ceremonious and traditional.

Buck. You are too senseless obstinate, my Lord,

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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 never claim'd it, nor deserv'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 Sanctuary Men,
But Sanctuary Children, ne'er 'till now.

Arch. My Lord, you shall o'er-rule my Mind for once. Come on, Lord Hastings, will you go with me?

Haft. I go, my Lord. [Exeunt Archbishop and Hastings.
Prince. Good Lords, make all the speedy haste you may.

Say, Uncle Glo'ster, if our Brother come,
Where shall we sojourn 'till our Coronation?

Glo. Where it seems best unto your Royal se If.
If I may counsel you, fome day or two
Your Highness shall repofe 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 Cafar build that Place, my Lord?
Buck. He did, my gracious Lord, begin that Place,
Which fince, fucceeding Ages have re-edify'd.
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 Registred,
Methinks the Truth should live from Age to Age,
As 'twere retail'd to all Pofterity,

Even to the general ending Day.

Glo. So wife, so young, they say do never live long.
Prince. What fay you, Uncle?

Glo. I say, without Characters Fame lives long.

Thus, like the formal Vice, Iniquity,
I moralize two meanings in one Word.

Prince. That Fulius Casar was a famous Man;
With what his Valour did enrich his Wir,
His Wit fet down, to make his Valour live :

[Afide.

Death

Death makes no Conquest of his Conqueror;
For now he lives in Fame, though not in Life.
I'll tell you what, my Coufin Buckingham.
Buck. What, my gracicus 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'da King.

Glo. Short Summers lightly have a forward Spring.
Enter York, Hastings, and Archbishop.
Buck. Now in good time, here comes the Duke of York.
Prince. Richard of York, how fares our Noble Brother?
York. Well, my dear Lord, so must I call you now.
Prince. Ay, Brother, to our Grief, as it is yours;
Too late he dy'd that might have kept that Title,
Which by his Death hath loft much Majesty.

Glo. How fares our Coufin, 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. Oh my fair Cousin I must not say so.
York. Then he is 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, 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 a Toy it is no grief to give.

Glo. A greater Gift than that I'll give my Coufin.
York. A greater Gift? O, that's the Sword to it.
Glo. Ay, gentle Cousin, were it light enough.
York. O then I fee you will part but with light Gift,

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.

Prince. My Lord of York will ever 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, wilt please you pafs along?
My felf, and my good Coufin 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 will have it fo..
York. I shall not fleep in quiet at the Tower.
Glo. Why, what should you fear?
York. Marry, my Uncle Clarence angry Ghost:

My Grandam told me, he was murther'd there.
Prince. I fear no Uncles dead.

Glo. Nor none that live, I hope.
Prince. And if I live, I hope I need not fear.
But come, my Lord, and with a heavy Heart,
Thinking on them, go I unto the Tower.

:

[Exeunt Prince, York, Hastings and Dorfet.

Manent Gloucester, Buckingham and Catesby.
Buck. Think you, my Lord, this little prating York
Was not incensed by his fubtle Mother,
To taunt and scorn you thus opprobrioufly?

Glo. No doubt, no doubt: Oh 'tis a parlous Boy,
Bold, quick, ingenious, forward, capable;
He is all the Mother's, from the top to toe.

Buk. 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 eafie Matter
To make William Lord Hastings of our Mind,
For the Instalment of this Noble Duke,
In the feat Royal of this famous Ifle?

Catef

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