Mayor.
See where his Grace stands 'tween two clergymen.

Buck.
Two props of virtue, for a christian Prince,
To stay him from the fall of vanity:
And see a book of prayer in his hand,
True ornaments to know a holy man.
Famous Plantagenet! most gracious Prince,
Lend favourable ear to our requests,
And pardon us the interruption
Of thy devotion and right christian zeal.

Glo.
My lord, there needs no such apology;
I do beseech your Grace to pardon me,
Who earnest in the service of my God,
Deferr'd the visitation of my friends.
But leaving this, what is your Grace's pleasure?

Buck.
Ev'n that, I hope, which pleaseth God above,
And all good men, of this ungovern'd Isle.

Glo.
I do suspect I have done some offence,
That seems disgracious in the city's eye,
And that you come to reprehend my ignorance.

Buck.
You have, my lord: would it might please your Grace,
On our entreaties to amend your fault.

Glo.
Else wherefore breathe I in a christian land?

Buck.
Know then, it is your fault that you resign
The supream seat, the throne majestical,
The scepter'd office of your ancestors,

Your state of fortune, and your due of birth,
The lineal glory of your royal house,
To the corruption of a blemish'd stock.
While in the mildness of your sleepy thoughts,
Which here we waken to our country's good,
The noble Isle doth want her proper limbs:
Her face defac'd with scars of infamy,
Her royal stock graft with ignoble plants,
And almost shoulder'd in the swallowing gulph
Of dark forgetfulness, and deep oblivion.
Which to re-cure, we heartily sollicit
Your gracous self to take on you the charge
And kingly government of this your land.
Not as Protector, steward, substitute,
Or lowly factor for another's gain;
But as successively, from blood to blood,
Your right of birth, your Empiry, your own.
For this, consorted with the citizens
Your very worshipful and loving friends,
And by their vehement instigation,
In this just suit come I to move your Grace.

Glo.
I cannot tell, if to depart in silence,
Or bitterly to speak in your reproof,
Best fitteth my degree, or your condition.
For not to answer, you might haply think
Tongue-ty'd ambition, not replying, yielded
To bear the golden yoak of Sov'raignty,
Which fondly you would here impose on me.
If to reprove you for this suit of yours,
So season'd with your faithful love to me,
Then on the other side I check'd my friends.
Therefore to speak, and to avoid the first,
And then in speaking, not incur the last,

Definitively thus I answer you.
Your love deserves my thanks, but my desert
Unmeritable, shuns your high request.
First, if all obstacles were cut away,
And that my path were even to the crown,
As the ripe revenue and due of birth;
Yet so much is my poverty of spirit,
So mighty and so many my defects,
That I would rather hide me from my greatness,
Being a bark to brook no mighty sea;
Than in my greatness covet to be hid,
And in the vapour of my glory smother'd.
But God be thank'd, there is no need of me,
And much I need to help you, were there need:
The royal tree hath left us royal fruit,
Which mellow'd by the stealing hours of time,
Will well become the seat of majesty,
And make us doubtless happy by his reign.
On him I lay what you would lay on me,
The right and fortune of his happy stars,
Which God defend that I should wring from him.

Buck.
My lord, this argues conscience in your Grace,
But the respects thereof are nice and trivial,
All circumstances well considered.
You say, that Edward is your brother's son,
So say we too, but not by Edward's wife:
For first was he contract to lady Lucy,
Your mother lives a witness to that vow;
And afterward by substitute betroth'd
To Bona, sister to the King of France.
These both put off, a poor petitioner,
A care-craz'd mother of a many children,
A beauty-waining, and distressed widow,

Ev'n in the afternoon of her best days,
Made prize and purchase of his wanton eye,
Seduc'd the pitch and height of all his thoughts
To base declension and loath'd bigamy.
By her, in his unlawful bed, he got
This Edward, whom our manners call the Prince.
More bitterly could I expostulate,
Save that for reverence of some alive,
I give a sparing limit to my tongue.
Then, good my lord, take to your royal self
This proffer'd benefit of dignity:
If not to bless us and the land withal,
Yet to draw forth your noble ancestry
From the corruption of abusing time,
Unto a lineal, true, derived course.

Mayor.
Do, good my lord, your citizens intreat you.

Buck.
Refuse not, mighty lord, this proffer'd love.

Cates.
O make them joyful, grant their lawful suit.

Glo.
Alas, why would you heap these cares on me?
I am unfit for state and majesty.
I do beseech you take it not amiss,
I cannot, nor I will not yield to you.

Buck.
If you refuse it, as in love and zeal,
Loth to depose the child your brother's son,
(As well we know your tenderness of heart,
And gentle, kind, effeminate remorse,
Which we have noted in you to your kindred,
And equally indeed to all estates)
Yet know, where you accept our suit or no,
Your brother's son shall never reign our King,
But we will plant some other in the throne,
To the disgrace and down-fall of your house:
And in this resolution here we leave you.

Come citizens, we will intreat no more. [Exeunt.

Cates.
Call them again, sweet Prince, accept their suit:
If you deny them, all the land will rue it.

Glo.
Will you inforce me to a world of cares?
Call them again, I am not made of stone,
But penetrable to your kind entreaties,
Albeit against my conscience and my soul. Re-enter Buckingham and the rest.
Cousin of Buckingham, and sage, grave men,
Since you will buckle fortune on my back
To bear her burthen, whether I will or no,
I must have patience to endure the load.
But if black scandal, or foul-fac'd reproach
Attend the sequel of your imposition,
Your meer enforcement shall acquittance me
From all the impure blots and stains thereof.
For God doth know, and you may partly see,
How far I am from the desire of this.

Mayor.
God bless your grace, we see it, and will say it.

Glo.
In saying so, you shall but say the truth.

Buck.
Then I salute you with this royal title,
Long live King Richard, England's worthy King.

All.
Amen.

Buck.
To-morrow may it please you to be crown'd?

Glo.
Ev'n when you please, for you will have it so.

Buck.
To-morrow then we will attend your Grace,
And so most joyfully we take our leave.

Glo.
Come, let us to our holy work again.
Farewel my cousin, farewel gentle friends. [Exeunt.

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