At Stony Stratford 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 fince last I saw him.

QUEEN. But I hear, not; they fay, my fon of York Has almost over-ta'n him in his growth.

YORK. Ay, mother, but I would not have it fo.
DUTCH. Why, my young coufin, it is good to grow.
YORK. Grandam, one night as we did fit at fupper,
My uncle Rivers talk'd how I did grow

More than my brotber. Ay, quoth my
uncle Glo'ster,
Small herbs have grace, great weeds do grow apace.
And fince, methinks, I would not grow so fast,
Because sweet flow'rs are flow, and weeds make hastë.
DUTCH. Good faith, good faith, the saying did not hold
In him that did object the fame to thee.

He was the wretched'st thing, when he was young;
So long a growing, and fo leisurely,

That, if his rule were true, he should be gracious.

YORK. And fo, no doubt, he is, my gracious madam. DUTCH. I hope, he is; but yet let mothers doubt. YORK. Now, by my troth, if I had been remember'¿ I could have giv'n my uncle's grace a flout

To touch his growth, nearer than he touch'd mine.

DUTCH. How, my young York? I pr'ythee, let me hear

YORK. Marry, they say, my uncle grew fo fast,

[it.

That he could gnaw a cruff 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 fhe, I cannot tell who told me. QUEEN. A per'lous boy go to, you are too fhrewd. DUTCH. Good madam, be not angry with a child. QUEEN. Pitchers have ears.

Enter a Meffenger,

ARCH. Here comes a messenger: what news? MES. Such news, my lord, as grieves me to report, QUEEN. How doth the prince?

MES. Well, madam, and in health.

DUTCH. What is thy news?

MES. Lord Rivers and lord Gray are fent to Pomfret, With them, fir Thomas Vaughan, prisoners.

DUTCH. Who hath committed them ?”

MES. The mighty dukes,

Glo'fter and Buckingham.

QUEEN. For what offence?

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

QUEEN. Ah me! I fee the ruin of my house; The tyger now hath feiz'd the gentle hind. Infulting tyranny begins to jut

Upon the innocent and awlefs throne;

Welcome, deftruction, blood and massacre!

I fee, as in a map, the end of all.

DUTCH. Accurfed and unquiet wrangling days!
How many of you have mine eyes beheld'!
My husband loft his life to get the crown,

And often up and down my fons were toft,
For me to joy, and weep, their gain, and loss.
And being feated, and domestic broils

Clean over-blown, themselves the conquerors

Make war upon themselves, blood against blood,
Self against self; O moft prepofterous

And frantic outrage; end thy damned fpleen;
Or let me die, to look on death no more.

QUEEN. Come, come, my boy, we will to fanctuary.
Madam, farewel.

DUTCH. Stay, I will go with you.

QUEEN. You have no cause.

ARCH. My gracious lady, go,

And thither bear your treasure and your goods.

For my part, I'll resign unto your grace

The feal I keep; and fo betide it me,
As well I tender you and all of yours!
-Go, I'll conduct you to the fanctuary.

ACT III. SCENE I.

In LONDON.

[Exeunt.

The trumpets found. Enter prince of Wales, the dukes of Gloucester and Buckingham, Archbishop, with others.

BUCKINGHAM.

ELCOME, fweet prince, to London, to your chamber.

WEL

Guo. Welcome, dear coufin, my thought's fovereign,
The weary way hath made you melancholy.

PRINCE. No, uncle, but our croffes 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 Hath not yet div'd into the world's deceit,

Nor more can you distinguish of a man,

Than of his outward fhew, 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 fuch falfe 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 flug is Haftings? that he comes not
To tell us, whether they will come or no.

Enter Lord Haftings.

BUCK. And in good time here comes the fweating lord. PRINCE. Welcome, my lord; what, will our mother come ?

HAST. On what occafion God he knows, not I,
The queen your mother and your brother York,
Have taken fanctuary; 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
Perfuade the queen to fend the duke of York
Unto his princely brother prefently?

If the deny, lord Haftings, 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 the be Obdurate to entreaties, God forbid, We should infringe the holy privilege Of fanctuary! not for all this land Would I be guilty of fo deep a fin.

Buck. You are too fenfeless-obftinate, my lord;

Too ceremonious and traditional.

Weigh it but with the groffness of this age,
You break not fanctuary in feizing him;
The benefit thereof is always granted

To thofe, whofe dealings have deferv'd the place,
And thofe, who have the wit to claim the place;
This prince hath neither claim'd' it, nor deferv'd it;
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 fanctuary-men,

But fanctuary-children ne'er 'till now,

ARCH. My lord, you fhall o'er-rule my mind for once.

Come on, lord Haftings, will you go with me?

HAST. I'go, my lord.

PRINCE, Good lords, make all the speedy hafte you may.

[Exeunt Archbishop and Haftings.

Say, uncle Glo'fter, if our brother come,

Where fhall we fojourn till our coronation?

GLO. Where it seems beft unto your royal felf:

If I may counfel you, fome day or two

Your highness shall repofe you at the Tower: