SCENE I. London. A street.
[The trumpets sound. Enter the PRINCE OF WALES, GLOSTER,
BUCKINGHAM, CATESBY, CARDINAL BOURCHIER, and others.]
Welcome, sweet prince, to London, to your chamber.
Welcome, dear cousin, my thoughts' sovereign:
The weary way hath made you melancholy.
No, uncle; but our crosses on the way
Have made it tedious, wearisome, and heavy:
I want more uncles here to welcome me.
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!
God keep me from false friends! but they were none.
My lord, the mayor of London comes to greet you.
[Enter the LORD MAYOR and his train.]
God bless your grace with health and happy days!
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!
And, in good time, here comes the sweating lord.
Welcome, my lord: what, will our mother come?
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.
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.
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 blessed sanctuary! not for all this land
Would I be guilty of so deep a sin.
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.
My lord, you shall o'errule my mind for once. —
Come on, Lord Hastings, will you go with me?
I go, my lord.
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?
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.
I do not like the Tower, of any place. —
Did Julius Caesar build that place, my lord?
He did, my gracious lord, begin that place;
Which, since, succeeding ages have re-edified.
Is it upon record, or else reported
Successively from age to age, he built it?
Upon record, my gracious lord.