SCENE IV.

THE SAME. A ROOM IN THE PALACE.

Enter the Archbishop of York, the young Duke of
York, Queen Elizabeth, and the Dutchess of York.
Arch. Last night, I heard, they lay at Stony-
Stratford;

And at Northampton they do rest to-night:
To-morrow, or next day, they will be here.
Dutch. 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. Dutch. Why, my young cousin? it is good to grow.

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

per,

My uncle Rivers talk'd how I did grow

More than my brother; Ay, quoth my uncle Glo's

ter,

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.

Dutch. '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. And so, no doubt, he is, my gracious ma

dam.

Dutch. I hope, he is; but yet let mothers doubt. York. Now, by my troth, if I had been remember'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 pry'thee, 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.

Dutch. I pr'ythee, pretty York, who told thee this? York. Grandam, his nurse.

Dutch. His nurse! why, she was dead ere thou wast 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.

Mes. Well, madam, and in health.

Dutch.

What is thy news?

Mes. Lord Rivers, and lord Grey, are sent to

Pomfret,

With them sir Thomas Vaughan, prisoners.

Dutch. Who hath committed them?

Mes.

Glo'ster and Buckingham.

Q. Eliz.

The mighty dukes,

For what offence?

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

Q. Eliz. Ah me, I see the ruin of my house!
The tiger now hath seiz'd the gentle hind;
Insulting tyranny begins to jut

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

Dutch. 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 tost,
For me to joy, and weep, their gain and loss:
And being seated, and domestick broils
Clean over-blown, themselves, the conquerors,
Make war upon themselves; brother to brother,
Blood to blood, self 'gainst self:-O, preposterous
And frantick outrage, end thy damned spleen;
Or let me die, to look on death no more!

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

Madam, farewel!

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.

1

ACT III. SCENE I.

THE SAME. A STREET.

The trumpets sound.

Enter the Prince of Wales,

Glo'ster, Buckingham, Cardinal Bourchier, 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

years

your

Hath not yet div'd into the world's deceit:
No 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 sugar'd words,
But look'd 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.