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To-morrow, or next day, they will be here.

Duch. I long with all my heart to see the
prince:

I hope he is much grown since last I saw him.
Q. Eliz. But I hear, no; they say my son of
York

Hath almost overta'en him in his growth.

York. Ay, mother; but I would not have it so.
Duch. Why, my young cousin, it is good to

grow.

York. Grandam, one night, as we did sit at

supper,

My uncle Rivers talked how I did grow

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More than my brother: Ay,' quoth my uncle Gloster,

'Small herbs have grace, great weeds do grow apace :'

And since, methinks, I would not grow so fast, 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. Why, madam, so, no doubt, he is.

Duch. I hope he is; but yet let mothers doubt.
York. Now, by my troth, if I had been re
membered,

I could have given my uncle's grace a flout,
To touch his growth nearer than he touched mine.
Duch. How, my pretty York? I prithee, 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 prithee, pretty York, who told thee this?

York. Grandam, his nurse.

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

York. If 'twere not she, I cannot tell who told

me.

Q. Eliz. A parlous boy :-go to, you are too shrewd.

Arch. Good madam, be not angry with the child. Q. Eliz. Pitchers have ears.

Arch. Here comes a messenger.

What news?

Enter a Messenger.

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

report.

Q. Eliz. How doth the prince?

Mess.

Well, madam, and in health.

Duch. What is thy news then?

Mess. Lord Rivers and Lord Grey are sent to

Pomfret,

With them Sir Thomas Vaughan, prisoners.

Duch. Who hath committed them?

Mess.

Gloster and Buckingham.

Q. Eliz.

The mighty Dukes

For what offence?

Mess. The sum of all I can, I have disclosed; Why or for what these nobles were committed Is all unknown to me, my gracious lady.

Q. Eliz. Ay me, I see the downfall of our house! The tiger now hath seized the gentle hind; Insulting tyranny begins to jet

Upon the innocent and aweless 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 tossed,
For me to joy and weep their gain and loss :
And being seated, and domestic broils
Clean over-blown, themselves, the conquerors,
Make war upon themselves; brother to brother,
Blood to blood, self against self: O, preposterous
And frantic outrage, end thy damnéd spleen ;
Or let me die, to look on death no more!

Q. Eliz. Come, come, my boy; we will to sanctuary.

Madam, farewell.

Duch.

Stay, I will go with you.

Q. Eliz. You have no cause.

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 to me

As well I tender you and all of

yours!

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

ACT III.

SCENE I.-London. A Street.

The trumpets sound. Enter the young Prince, the Dukes of GLOSTER and BUCKINGHAM, Cardinal BOURCHIER, CATESBY, and others.

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

Glo. 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.

Glo. Sweet prince, the untainted virtue of your years

Hath not yet dived into the world's deceit;
Nor more can you distinguish of a man

Than of his outward show, which, God he knows,
Seldom or never jumpeth with the heart.
Those uncles which you want were dangerous;
Your grace attended to their sugared words,
But looked 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.

Glo. 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.

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!

Buck. And, in good time, here comes the sweating lord.

Enter Lord HASTINGS.

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 Persuade 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.
Card. My Lord of Buckingham, if my weak
oratory

Can from his mother win the Duke of York,
Expect him here; but if she be obdurate
To mild entreaties, God in heaven forbid
We should infringe the holy privilege
Of blessed sanctuary! not for all this land
Would I be guilty of so deep a sin.

Buck. You are too senseless-obstinate, my lord,

Too ceremonious and traditional :

Weigh it but with the grossness of this age,

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