Enter LORD MAYOR and Two ALDERMEN. Lord M. Vouchsafe, most gracious sovereign, to The general homage of your royal city: P. Ed. I thank you, good my lord, and thank you Alas! my youth is yet unfit to govern, Therefore, the sword of justice is in abler hands; I perceive I love you, that though I know not yet Glost. So wise, so young, they say, do ne'er live long. P. Ed. My lords, I thought my mother, and my brother, York, Where shall we sojourn till our coronation? [Aside. Glost. Where it shall seem best to your royal self. May I advise you, sir, some day or two, Your highness shall repose you at the Tower; Then, where you please, and shall be thought most fit For your best health and recreation. P. Ed. Why at the Tower? But, be it as you please. Buck. My lord, your brother's Grace of York. Enter DUKE and DUCHESS OF YORK. P. Ed. Richard of York! how fares our dearest brother? [Embracing. D. of York. Oh, my dear lord! So I must call you now. P. Ed. Ay, brother, to our grief, as it is yours! Too soon he dy'd, who might have better worn That title, which, in me, will lose its majesty. Glost. How fares our cousin, noble Lord of York? D. of York. Thank you kindly, dear uncle—Oh, my lord, You said that idle weeds were fast in growth; D. of York. And, therefore, is he idle? Glost. Oh, pretty cousin, I must not say so. true, For, if it were, you'd be an idle weed. Glost. How so, cousin? D. of York. Because, I have heard folks say, you grew so fast, Your teeth would gnaw a crust at two hours old: Glost. Indeed! I find, the brat is taught this les son. Who told thee this, my pretty, merry cousin? [Aside. Glost. My nurse, child! she was dead 'fore thou wert born. D. of York. If 'twas not she, I can't tell who told me. Glost. So subtle too! 'tis pity thou art short liv'd! [Aside. P. Ed. My brother, uncle, will be cross in talk. Glost. Oh, fear not, my lord; we shall never quarrel. P. Ed. I hope your grace knows how to bear with him. D. of York. You mean to bear me, not to bear with me; Uncle, my brother mocks both you and me: He thinks that you should bear me on your shoulders. To meet, and bid you welcome, at the Tower. dear lord? P. Ed. My Lord Protector will have it so. D. of York. I shan't sleep in quiet, at the Tower. Glost. I'll warrant you; King Henry lay there, And he sleeps in quiet. [Aside. P. Ed. What should you fear, brother? D. of York. My uncle, Clarence' ghost, my lord; My grandmother told me he was kill'd there. P. Ed. I fear no uncles dead. Glost. Nor any, sir, that live, I hope? P. Ed. I hope so too; but come, my lords, To the Tower, since it must be so. [Exeunt all but GLOSTER and BUCKINGHAM. Buck. Think you, my lord, this little, prating, York Was not instructed by his subtle mother, To taunt and scorn you thus opprobriously? Glost. No doubt-no doubt; oh, 'tis a shrewd Stubborn, bold, quick, forward, and capable! Enter CATESBY. Glost. So, Catesby, hast thou been tampering? What news? Catesby. My lord, according to the instruction given me, With words, at distance dropp'd, I sounded Hastings, Piercing how far he did affect your purpose; To which, indeed, I found him cold, unwilling; At length, from plainer speaking, urg'd to answer, He shall be taken care of; meanwhile, Catesby, Of Edward's children. Buck. Doubt not, my lord, I'll play the orator, As if myself might wear the golden fee, For which I plead. Glost. If you thrive well, bring them to see me here, Where you shall find me seriously employ'd, Glost. To serve thyself, my cousin ; Buck. I shall remember, that your grace was boun tiful. Glost. Cousin, I have said it. Buck. I am gone, my lord. Glost. So, I've secur'd my cousin here. moveables Will never let his brains rest, till I'm king. [Exit. These 1 Catesby, go you with speed to Doctor Shaw, [Exit CATESBY. Come, this conscience is a convenient scarecrow; They know 'tis rags, and gather in the face on't; While half-starv'd, shallow daws, through fear, are honest. Why were laws made, but, that we're rogues by na ture? Conscience! 'tis our coin-we live by parting with it; And the deluded virgin, short lived pleasure; Your lank-jaw'd, hungry judge, will dine upon't, And hang the guiltless, rather than eat his mutton cold: The crown'd head quits it for despotic sway; |