Buckingham, Archbishop, with others.
Buckingham.
Welcome, sweet Prince, to London, 6 noteto your chamber.
Glo.
Welcome, dear Cousin, my thought's 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, th' untainted virtue of your years
-- 281 --
Hath not yet div'd into the world's deceit,
Nor 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 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.
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 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.
Enter Lord Hastings.
Buck.
And in good time here comes the sweating lord.
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 with-held.
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?
-- 282 --
If she 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 she be
Obdurate to entreaties, God forbid,
We should infringe the holy privilege
Of Sanctuary! not for all this land
Would I be guilty of so deep a sin.
Buck.
You are too senseless-obstinate, my Lord;
7 noteToo ceremonious, and traditional.
8 note
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 neither claim'd it, nor deserv'd it;
Therefore, in mine opinion, cannot have it;
Then taking him from thence, that is not there,
-- 283 --
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?
Hast.
I go, my Lord.
Prince.
Good Lords, make all the speedy haste you may.
[Exeunt Archbishop and Hastings.
Say, Uncle Glo'ster, if our Brother come,
Where shall we sojourn till our Coronation?
Glo.
Where it seems best unto your royal self:
If I may counsel you, 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.
Prince.
I do not like the Tower of any place.
Did Julius Cæsar build that place, my Lord?
Buck.
He did, my gracious Lord, begin that place,
Which, since, succeeding 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 register'd,
Methinks, the truth should live from age to age,
9 note
As 'twere retail'd to all Posterity;
Even to the general all-ending day.
Glo.
So wise, so young, they say, do ne'er live long.
[Aside.
Prince.
What say you, Uncle?
Glo.
I say, without characters Fame lives long.
-- 284 --
1 note
Thus, like the formal vice, Iniquity,
Aside.
I moralize:6Q01876Q0188Two meanings in one word.
Aside.
-- 285 --
Prince.
That Julius Cæsar was a famous man;
With what his valour did enrich his wit,
-- 286 --
His wit set down to make his valour live.
Death makes no conquest of this conqueror;
For now he lives in fame, though not in life.
—I'll tell you what, my cousin Buckingham.
Buck.
What, my gracious Lord?
Prince.
An if I live until I be a man,
I'll win our ancient Right in France again,
Or die a soldier, as I liv'd a King.
Glo.
Short summer 2 notelightly has a forward spring.
[Aside.
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 3 notedread Lord, so must I call you now.
Prince.
Ay, brother, to our grief, as it is yours;
4 note
Too late he dy'd that might have kept that title,
Which by his death hath lost much Majesty.
Glo.
How fares our Cousin, 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.
-- 287 --
York.
And therefore is he idle?
Glo.
Oh, my fair Cousin, I must not say so.
York.
Then is he more beholden to you than I.
Glo.
He may command me as my Sovereign,
But you have pow'r in me, as in a kinsman.
York.
I pray you, Uncle, give me this your dagger.
Glo.
My dagger, little cousin? with all my heart.
Prince.
A beggar, brother?
York.
Of my kind Uncle, that I know will give;
5 note
And being but a toy, which is no gift to give.
Glo.
A greater gift than that I'll give my cousin.
York.
A greater gift? O, that's the sword to it.
Glo.
Ay, gentle Cousin, were it light enough.
York.
O, then I see, you'll part but with light gifts;
In weightier things you'll say a beggar nay.
Glo.
It is too weighty for your Grace to wear.
York.
6 note
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.
My Lord of York will still 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:
7 noteBecause that I am little like an ape,
-- 288 --
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, will't please you pass along?
Myself, and my good cousin 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, needs will have it so.
York.
I shall not sleep 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.
An if they 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 Dorset.
Samuel Johnson [1765], The plays of William Shakespeare, in eight volumes, with the corrections and illustrations of Various Commentators; To which are added notes by Sam. Johnson (Printed for J. and R. Tonson [and] C. Corbet [etc.], London) [word count] [S11001].
