O, full of danger is the Duke of Glo'fter,

And the Queen's fons and brother's haughty, proud:
And were they to be rul'd, and not to rule,

This fickly land might folace as before.

[cloaks;

1 Cit. Come, come, we fear the worst; all will be well. 3 Cit. When clouds are feen, wife men put on their When great leaves fall, then winter is at hand; When the fun fets, who doth not look for night? Untimely ftorms make men expect a dearth: All may be well; but if God fort it so, 'Tis more than we deserve, or I expect.

2 Cit. Truly the hearts of men are full of fear: You cannot reafon almoft with a man

That looks not heavily, and full of dread.

3 Cit. Before the days of change, ftill is it fo;
By a divine inftinct men's minds mistrust
Enfuing danger; as by proof we fee
The water fwell before a boift'rous ftorm.
But leave it all to God, Whither away?

2 Cit. Marry, we were fent for to the Juftices.
3 Cit. And fo was I, I'll bear you company. [Exeunt.

Enter Archbishop of York, the young Duke of York,
the Queen, and the Dutchess of York.

Arch. I Heard they lay the last night at Northampton,
At Stony-Stratford they do reft to-night:

To-morrow or next day they will be here.

Dutch. I long with all my heart to fee the Prince;
I hope he is much grown fince laft I saw him.
Queen. But I hear, not; they fay my fon of York
Has almost overta'en him in his growth.

York, Ay, mother, but I would not have it fo.

Dutch.

Dutch. Why, my good coufin, it is good to grow. York. Grandam, one night as we did fit at fupper, My uncle Rivers talk'd how I did grow

More than my brother. Ay, quoth my uncle Glo'fter,
Small herbs have grace, great weeds do grow apace.
And fince, methinks I would not grow fo fast,
Because sweet flow'rs are flow, and weeds make hafte.
Dutch. Good faith, good faith, the faying did not hold
In him that did object the fame to thee.

He was the wretched'ft thing when he was young,
So long a growing, and fo leisurely,

That if his rule were true, he should be gracious.
York. 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 remember'd,
I could have giv'n my uncle's Grace a flout

To touch his growth, nearer than he touch'd mine. [it.
Dutch. How, my young York? I pr'ythee, let me hear
York. Marry, they fay, my uncle grew fo faft,
That he could gnaw a cruft at two hours old;
'Twas full two years ere I could get a tooth.
Grandam, this would have been a biting jest.

Dutch. I pr'ythee, pretty York, who told thee this?
York. Grandam, his nurse.
[born.
Dutch. His nurfe! why, fhe was dead ere thou waft
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 a child.
Queen. Pitchers have ears.

Enter a Meffenger.

Arch. Here comes a meffenger: what news?

Mef. Such news, my Lord, as grieves me to report.

Queen. How doth the Prince?

Mef. Well, Madam, and in health.

Dutch. What is thy news?

Mef. Lord Rivers and Lord Gray are fent to Pomfret,

With them Sir Thomas Vaughan, prisoners.

Dutch.

Dutch. Who hath committed them?

Mef. The mighty Dukes, Glo'fter and Buckingham.

Arch. For what offence?

Mef. The fum of all I can I have disclos'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 awless throne;
Welcome, destruction, blood and maffacre!
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, themfelves the
conquerors
Make war upon themselves, blood against blood,
Self against felf: O most 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 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 refign unto your Grace
The feal I keep; and fo betide it me,
As well I tender you, and all of yours!
Go, I'll conduct you to the Sanctuary.

[Exeunt.

ACT

ACT III. SCENE I.

Continues in LONDON.

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

BUCKINGHAM.

Welcome, fweet Prince, to London, 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, wearifome and heavy. I want more uncles here to welcome me.

Glo. Sweet Prince, th' untainted virtue of your years Hath not yet div'd into the world's deceit :

No more can you diftinguish of a man,

Than of his outward fhew, which, God he knows,
Seldom or never jumpeth with the heart.
Those uncles which you want were dangerous:
Your Grace attended to their fugar'd words,
But look'd not on the poison of their hearts:

God keep you from them, and from fuch falfe friends!
Prince. God keep me from falfe 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

I thought my mother, and my brother York,
Would long ere this have met us on the way.

(a) London was anțiently call'd Camera regia.

you

all:

Fie, Pope.

Fie, what a flug is Haftings! that he comes not
To tell us, whether they will come or no.

Enter Lord Hastings.

Buck. And in good time here comes the fweating 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 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 peevish course
Is this of hers? 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.
Arch. My Lord of Buckingham, if my weak oratory
Can from his mother win the Duke of York,
Anon expect him here; but if fhe be
Obdurate to entreaties, God forbid
We should infringe the holy pfivilege
Of Sanctuary! not for all this land
Would I be guilty of fo deep a fin.

Buck. You are too fenfeless, obftinate, my Lord,
Too ceremonious and traditional.

2

Weigh it but with the 'greenness of his age,
You break not Sanctuary, in feizing him;
The benefit thereof is always granted

To those 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 Sanctuary-men,
But Sanctuary-children ne'er 'till now.

Arch.

z groffness of this ... old edit. Warb, emend.