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Richard the Third

Act. 2. Scene. 4.

Published Jan. 1800, by Vernor & Hood, Poultry.

Enter the Archbishop of York, the young Duke of York, Queen ELIZABETH, and the Duchess of York.

Arch. Laft night, I heard, they lay at Stony-Stratford; And at Northampton they do rest to-night : To-morrow, or next day, they will be here.

Duch. long with all my heart to fee the prince; I hope, he is much grown fince laft I faw him.

2. Eliz. But I hear, no; they fay, my fon of York Hath almost overta'en him in his growth.

York. Ay, mother, but I would not have it fo.
Duch. 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 brother; Ay, quoth my uncle Glofter,
Small herbs have grace, great weeds do grow apace:
And fince, methinks, I would not grow so fast,
Because sweet flowers are flow, and weeds make hafte.
Duch. 'Good faith, 'good faith, the faying did not hold
In him that did object the fame to thee:

He was the wretched'ft thing, when he was young,
So long a growing, and fo leifurely,

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

Arch. And so, no doubt, he is, my gracious madam.
Duch. I hope, he is; but yet let mothers doubt.
York. Now, by my troth, if I had been remember'd,

I could have given my uncle's grace a flout,

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

Duch. How, my young York? I pr'ythee, let me hear it. York. Marry, they fay, my uncle grew fo faft,

Here comes a messenger:

Such news, my lord,

e to unfold.

How doth the prince ?

madam, and in health.

What is thy news ?

Rivers, and lord Grey, are sent to Pomfret, Thomas Vaughan, prisoners.

o hath committed them?

uckingham.

The mighty dukes,

For what offence?

um of all I can, I have difclos'd;
what, the nobles were committed,
n to me, my gracious lady.
me, I fee the ruin of my house!
v hath feiz'd the gentle hind;
nny begins to jut

ocent and awlefs throne :

Welcome,

Welcome, deftruction, blood, and massacre!
I fee, as in a map, the end of all.

Duch. 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 tolt,
For me to joy, and weep, their gain, and loss :
And being feated, and domestick broils
Clean over-blown, themselves, the conquerors,
Make war upon
themselves; brother to brother,
Blood to blood, felf 'gainft felf:-O, prepofterous
And frantick outrage, end thy dainned spleen;
Or let me die, to look on death no more!

2. Eliz. Come, come, my boy, we will to fanctuary.— Madam, farewell.

And thither bear your treasure and your goods.

For my part, I'll refign unto your grace
The feal I keep; And fo betide to me,
As well I tender you, and all of yours!
Come, I'll conduct you to the fanctuary.

[Exeunt.