Glo.
How now, how now, what say the citizens?

Buck.
Now by the holy mother of our Lord,
The citizens are mum, say not a word.

Glo.
Touch'd you the bastardy of Edward's children?

Buck.
I did, with his Contract with lady Lucy,
And his Contract by Deputy in France;
Th' unsatiate greediness of his desires,
And his enforcement of the city-wives;
His tyranny for trifles; his own bastardy,
As being got, your father then in France,
And his resemblance, being not like the Duke.
Withal, I did infer your lineaments,
Being the right idea of your father,
Both in your form and nobleness of mind:
Laid open all your victories in Scotland;
Your discipline in war, wisdom in peace,
Your bounty, virtue, fair humility:
Indeed, left nothing fitting for the purpose
Untouch'd, or slightly handled in discourse.
And when my Oratory grew tow'rd end,
I bid them, that did love their Country's Good,
Cry, God save Richard, England's royal King!

Glo.
And did they so?

Buck.
No, so God help me, they spake not a word;
But like dumb statues, or unbreathing stones,
Star'd each on other, and look'd deadly pale:
Which when I saw, I reprehended them;
And ask'd the Mayor, what meant this wilful silence?
His Answer was, the People were not used
To be spoke to, except by the Recorder.
Then he was urg'd to tell my Tale again:

Thus saith the Duke, thus hath the Duke inferr'd,
But nothing spoke in warrant from himself.
When he had done, some followers of mine own,
At lower end o'th' Hall, hurl'd up their caps,
And some ten voices cry'd, God save king Richard!
And thus I took the vantage of those few:
Thanks, gentle citizens and friends, quoth I,
This general applause and chearful shout
Argues your wisdom, and your love to Richard.
And even here brake off, and came away.

Glo.
What tongueless blocks were they, would they not speak?
Will not the Mayor then and his brethren come?

Buck.
The Mayor is here at hand; intend some fear;
Be not you spoke with, but by mighty suit;
And look you get a prayer-book in your hand,
And stand between two Churchmen, good my lord;
For on that ground I'll build a holy descant:
And be not easily won to our requests:
Play the maid's part, still answer nay, and take it.

Glo.
I go: and if you plead as well for them,
As I can say nay to thee, for myself;
No doubt, we'll bring it to a happy issue. [Ex. Glo.

Buck.
Go, go up to the leads, the Lord Mayor knocks. Enter Lord Mayor, and Citizens.
Welcome, my lord. I dance attendance here;
I think, the Duke will not be spoke withal. Enter Catesby.

Buck.
Catesby, what says your lord to my request?

Catesby.
He doth intreat your Grace, my noble lord,
To visit him to morrow, or next day;
He is within, with two right-reverend fathers,
Divinely bent to meditation;
And in no worldly suits would he be mov'd,

To draw him from his holy exercise.

Buck.
Return, good Catesby, to the gracious Duke;
Tell him, myself, the Mayor and Aldermen,
In deep designs, in matter of great moment,
No less importing than our gen'ral Good,
Are come to have some conf'rence with his Grace.

Cates.
I'll signifie so much unto him strait. [Exit.

Buck.
Ah, ah! my lord, this Prince is not an Edward;
He is not lolling on a lewd love-bed,
But on his knees at meditation:
Not dallying with a brace of Curtezans,
But meditating with two deep Divines:
Not sleeping, to engross his idle body,
But praying, to enrich his watchful soul.
Happy were England, would this virtuous Prince
Take on his Grace the Sov'reignty thereof;
But, sure, I fear, we shall not win him to it.

Mayor.
Marry, God shield, his Grace should say us nay!

Buck.
I fear, he will; here Catesby comes again. Enter Catesby.
Catesby, what says his Grace?

Cates.
He wonders to what end you have assembled
Such troops of Citizens to come to him,
His Grace not being warn'd thereof before:
He fears, my lord, you mean no good to him.

Buck.
Sorry I am, my noble Cousin should
Suspect me, that I mean no good to him:
By heav'n, we come to him in perfect love,
And so once more return, and tell his Grace. [Exit Catesby.
When holy and devout religious men
Are at their beads, 'tis hard to draw them thence,
So sweet is zealous Contemplation.

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