ACT III

       Table of Contents

      SCENE I. London. A street

       [The trumpets sound. Enter the PRINCE OF WALES, GLOSTER, BUCKINGHAM, CATESBY, CARDINAL BOURCHIER, and others.]

       BUCKINGHAM

       Welcome, sweet prince, to London, to your chamber.

       GLOSTER

       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.

       GLOSTER

       Sweet prince, the untainted virtue of your years

       Hath not yet div’d into the world’s deceit:

       Nor 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.

       GLOSTER

       My lord, the mayor of London comes to greet you.

       [Enter the LORD MAYOR and his train.]

       MAYOR

       God bless your grace with health and happy days!

       PRINCE

       I thank you, good my lord;—and thank you all.

       [Exeunt MAYOR, &c.]

       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!

       BUCKINGHAM

       And, in good time, here comes the sweating lord.

       [Enter HASTINGS.]

       PRINCE

       Welcome, my lord: what, will our mother come?

       HASTINGS

       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 withheld.

       BUCKINGHAM

       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?

       If she deny, Lord Hastings, go with him,

       And from her jealous arms pluck him perforce.

       CARDINAL

       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 mild entreaties, God in heaven forbid

       We should infringe the holy privilege

       Of blessèd sanctuary! not for all this land

       Would I be guilty of so deep a sin.

       BUCKINGHAM

       You are too senseless-obstinate, my lord,

       Too ceremonious and traditional:

       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;

       And therefore, in mine opinion, cannot have it:

       Then, taking him from thence that is not there,

       You break no privilege nor charter there.

       Oft have I heard of sanctuary-men;

       But sanctuary-children ne’er till now.

       CARDINAL

       My lord, you shall o’errule my mind for once.—

       Come on, Lord Hastings, will you go with me?

       HASTINGS

       I go, my lord.

       PRINCE

       Good lords, make all the speedy haste you may.

       [Exeunt CARDINAL and HASTINGS.]

       Say, uncle Gloster, if our brother come,

       Where shall we sojourn till our coronation?

       GLOSTER

       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 Caesar build that place, my lord?

       BUCKINGHAM

       He did, my gracious lord, begin that place;

       Which, since, succeeding ages have re-edified.

       PRINCE

       Is it upon recórd, or else reported

       Successively from age to age, he built it?

       BUCKINGHAM

       Upon recórd, my gracious lord.

       PRINCE

       But say, my lord, it were not register’d,

       Methinks the truth should live from age to age,

       As ‘twere retail’d to all posterity,

       Even to the general all-ending day.

       GLOSTER

       [Aside]

       So wise so young, they say, do never live long.

       PRINCE