Shakespeare's First Folio Part 421

Enter young Yorke, Hastings, and Cardinall.

Buck. Now in good time, heere comes the Duke of Yorke

Prince. Richard of Yorke, how fares our n.o.ble Brother?

Yorke. Well, my deare Lord, so must I call you now

Prince. I, Brother, to our griefe, as it is yours: Too late he dy'd, that might haue kept that t.i.tle, Which by his death hath lost much Maiestie

Glo. How fares our Cousin, n.o.ble Lord of Yorke?

Yorke. I thanke you, gentle Vnckle. O my Lord, You said, that idle Weeds are fast in growth: The Prince, my Brother, hath out-growne me farre

Glo. He hath, my Lord

Yorke. And therefore is he idle?

Glo. Oh my faire Cousin, I must not say so

Yorke. Then he is more beholding to you, then I

Glo. He may command me as my Soueraigne, But you haue power in me, as in a Kinsman

Yorke. I pray you, Vnckle, giue me this Dagger

Glo. My Dagger, little Cousin? with all my heart

Prince. A Begger, Brother?

Yorke. Of my kind Vnckle, that I know will giue, And being but a Toy, which is no griefe to giue

Glo. A greater gift then that, Ile giue my Cousin

Yorke. A greater gift? O, that's the Sword to it

Glo. I, gentle Cousin, were it light enough

Yorke. O then I see, you will part but with light gifts, In weightier things you'le say a Begger nay

Glo. It is too weightie for your Grace to weare

Yorke. I weigh it lightly, were it heauier

Glo. What, would you haue my Weapon, little Lord?

Yorke. I would that I might thanke you, as, as, you call me

Glo. How?

Yorke. Little

Prince. My Lord of Yorke will still be crosse in talke: Vnckle, your Grace knowes how to beare with him

Yorke. You meane to beare me, not to beare with me: Vnckle, my Brother mockes both you and me, Because that I am little, like an Ape, He thinkes that you should beare me on your shoulders

Buck. With what a sharpe prouided wit he reasons: To mittigate the scorne he giues his Vnckle, He prettily and aptly taunts himselfe: So cunning, and so young, is wonderfull

Glo. My Lord, wilt please you pa.s.se along?

My selfe, and my good Cousin Buckingham, Will to your Mother, to entreat of her To meet you at the Tower, and welcome you

Yorke. what, will you goe vnto the Tower, my Lord?

Prince. My Lord Protector will haue it so

Yorke. I shall not sleepe in quiet at the Tower

Glo. Why, what should you feare?

Yorke. Marry, my Vnckle Clarence angry Ghost: My Grandam told me he was murther'd there

Prince. I feare no Vnckles dead

Glo. Nor none that liue, I hope

Prince. And if they liue, I hope I need not feare.

But come my Lord: and with a heauie heart, Thinking on them, goe I vnto the Tower.

A Senet. Exeunt Prince, Yorke, Hastings, and Dorset.

Manet Richard, Buckingham, and Catesby.

Buck. Thinke you, my Lord, this little prating Yorke Was not incensed by his subtile Mother, To taunt and scorne you thus opprobriously?

Glo. No doubt, no doubt: Oh 'tis a perillous Boy, Bold, quicke, ingenious, forward, capable: Hee is all the Mothers, from the top to toe

Buck. Well, let them rest: Come hither Catesby, Thou art sworne as deepely to effect what we intend, As closely to conceale what we impart: Thou know'st our reasons vrg'd vpon the way.

What think'st thou? is it not an easie matter, To make William Lord Hastings of our minde, For the installment of this n.o.ble Duke In the Seat Royall of this famous Ile?

Cates. He for his fathers sake so loues the Prince, That he will not be wonne to ought against him

Buck. What think'st thou then of Stanley? Will not hee?

Cates. Hee will doe all in all as Hastings doth

Buck. Well then, no more but this: Goe gentle Catesby, and as it were farre off, Sound thou Lord Hastings, How he doth stand affected to our purpose, And summon him to morrow to the Tower, To sit about the Coronation.

If thou do'st finde him tractable to vs, Encourage him, and tell him all our reasons: If he be leaden, ycie, cold, vnwilling, Be thou so too, and so breake off the talke, And giue vs notice of his inclination: For we to morrow hold diuided Councels, Wherein thy selfe shalt highly be employ'd

Rich. Commend me to Lord William: tell him Catesby, His ancient Knot of dangerous Aduersaries To morrow are let blood at Pomfret Castle, And bid my Lord, for ioy of this good newes, Giue Mistresse Sh.o.r.e one gentle Kisse the more

Buck. Good Catesby, goe effect this businesse soundly

Cates. My good Lords both, with all the heed I can

Rich. Shall we heare from you, Catesby, ere we sleepe?

Cates. You shall, my Lord

Rich. At Crosby House, there shall you find vs both.

Exit Catesby.