Star'd each on other, and look'd deadly pale:
Which when I faw, I reprehended them,

And ask'd the Mayor, what meant this wilful filence?
His answer was, the People were not used
To be fpoke to, but by the Recorder.

Then he was urg'd to tell my Tale again:
Thus faith the Duke, thus hath the Duke inferr'd,
But nothing spoke in warrant from himself.

When he had done, fome Followers of mine own,
At lower end of the Hall, hurl'd up their Caps,
And some ten Voices cry'd, God fave King Richard:
And thus I took the vantage of thofe few.
Thanks, gentle Citizens and Friends, quoth I,
This general Applause, and chearful Shout,
Argues your Wisdom, and your love to Richard;
And even here brake off and came away,

Glo. What Tongue-lefs Blocks were they,
Would they not speak?

Will not the Mayor then and his Brethren come?
Buck. The Mayor is here at hand; intend fome fear,
Be nor you spoke with, but by mighty fuit;

And look you get a Prayer-Book in your Hand,
And ftand between two Churchmen, good my Lord,
For on that ground I'll make a holy Defcant:
And be not easily won to our Requests,
Play the Maid's part, ftill anfwer nay, and take it,
Glo. I go: And if you plead as well for them,
As I can fay nay for thee to my felf,

No doubt we bring it to a happy 1ffue.

[Exit Glo. Buck. Go, go up to the Leads, the Lord Mayor knocks. Enter Lord Mayor and Citizens,

Welcome my Lord, I dance attendance here,

I think the Duke will not be fpoke withal.

Enter Catesby.

Buck Now Catesby, what fays your Lord to my Request?
Catef. He doth intreat your Grace, my Noble Lord,
To vifit him to Morrow, or next Day;

He is within, with two right Reverend Fathers,
Divinely bent to Meditation,

And in no worldly Suits would he be mov'd,
To draw him from his holy Exercife,

Buck.

Buck. Return, good Catesby, to the gracieus Duke,
Tell him, my felf, the Mayor and Aldermen,
In deep Defigns, in matter of great Moment,
No lefs importing than our general Good,

Are come to have fome conference with his Grace.
Caref. I'll fignifie fo much unto him straight.

[Exit.

Buck, Ah ha, my Lord, this Prince is not an Edward,

He is not lulling on a lew'd Love-Bed,

But on his Knees at Meditation :

Not dallying with a Brace of Curtizans,
But meditating with two deep Divines:
Not fleeping, to engrofs his idle Body,
But praying, to enrich his watchful Soul.
Happy were England, would this virtuous Prince
Take on his Grace the Soveraignty thereof.
But fure I fear we shall not win him to it.

Mayor. Marry, God defend, his Grace fhould fay us nay.
Buck. I fear he will; here Catesby comes again.
Enter Catesby.

Now Catesby, what fays his Grace?

Catef. He wonders to what end you have assembled
Such Troops of Citizens to come to him,

His Grace not being warn'd thereof before:
He fears, my Lord, you mean no good to him.
Buck, Sorry I am, my noble Coufin should
Safpe&t me, that I mean no good to him:
By Heav'n, we come to him in perfect Love,
And fo once more return, and tell his Grace.
When holy and devout Religious Men
Are at their Beads, 'tis much to draw them thence,
So fweet is zealous Contemplation.

[Exit Catesby.

Enter Gloucefter above, between two Bishops.

Mayor. See where his Grace ftands 'tween two Clergymen
Buck. Two Props of Virtue, for a Christian Prince,
To ftay him from the fall of Vanity:

And fee a Book of Prayer in his Hand,
True Ornaments to know a holy Man.
Famous Plantagenet, moft gracious Prince,
Lend favourable Ear to our requests,
And pardon us the interruption

Of thy Devotion and right Christian Zeal.

Glo.

Glo. My Lord, there needs no fuch Apology;
I do befeech your Grace to pardon me,
Who carneft in the Service of th' high God,
Deferr'd the Vifitation of my Friends.

But leaving this, what is your Grace's pleasure?
Buck. Even that, I hope, which pleaseth God above,
And all good Men, of this ungovern'd Ifle."
Glo. I do fufpe&t I have done fome offence,
That feems difgracious in the City's Eye,
And that you come to reprehend my Ignorance.
Buck. You have, my Lord.

Would it might please your Grace,

On our entreaties to amend your Fault.

Glo. Elfe wherefore breath I in a Chriftian Land.
Buck Know then, it is your Fault that you refign
The Supream Seat, the Throne Majestical,
The Sceptred Office of your Ancestors,
Your State of Fortune, and your due of Birth,
The Lineal Glory of your Royal Houfe,
To the corruption of a blemish'd Stock;
Whiles in the mildnefs of your fleepy Thoughts,
Which here we waken to our Country's good,
The noble Ifle doth want his proper Limbs:
His Face defac'd with skars of Infamy,
His Royal Stock graft with ignoble Plants,
And almost shouldred in the fwallowing Gulf
Of dark Forgetfulness, and deep Oblivion,
Which to re-cure, we heartily follicit
Your gracious felf to take on you the charge
And kingly Government of this
your Land:
Not as Protector, Steward, Subftitute,
Or lowly Factor, for another's gain;
But as fucceffively, from Blood to Blood,
Your right of Birth, your Empiry, your own.
For this, conforted with the Citizens,
Your very Worfhipful and loving Friends,
And by their vehement Inftigation,

In this juft Caufe come I to move your Grace
Glo. I cannot tell, if to depart in filence,

Or bitterly to speak in your reproof,

Beft

Beft fitteth my Degree, or your Condition.
For not to answer, you might haply think
Tongue-ty'd Ambition, not replying, yielded
To bear the Golden Yoak of Soveraignty,
Which fondly you would here impose on me.
If to reprove you for this fuit of yours,
So feafon'd with your faithful Love to me,
Then on the other fide I check'd my Friends.
Therefore to fpeak, and to avoid the first,
And then in fpeaking, not to incur the laft,
Definitively thus I answer you.

Your Love deserves my thanks, but my defert
Unmeritable, fhuns your high requeft.
Firft, if all Obstacles were cut away,
And that my Path were even to the Crown,
As the ripe Revenue, and due of Birth;
Yet fo much is my poverty of Spirit,
So mighty, and fo many my Defe&s,
That I would rather hide me from my Greatness,
Being a Bark to brook no mighty Sea;
Than in my Greatnefs covet to be hid,
And in the Vapour of my Glory fmother'd.
But God be thank'd, there is no need of me,
And much I need to help you, were there need:
The Royal Tree hath left us Royal Fruit,
Which mellow'd by the ftealing hours of time,
Will well become the Seat of Majefty,
And make us, no doubt, happy by his Reign.
On him I lay that, you would lay on me,
The Right and Fortune of his happy Stars,
Which God defend that I should wring from him.

Buck. My Lord, this argues Conscience in
But the refpects thereof are nice, and trivial,
All Circumftances well confidered.
You fay, that Edward is your Brother's Son,
So fay we too, but not by Edward's Wife:
For firft was he contract to Lady Lucy,
Your Mother lives a Witnefs to his Vow.
And afterward by Subftitute betroth'd
To Bona, Sifter to the King of France.
These both put off, a poor Petitioner,

your

Grace,

A

A Care-craz'd Mother to a many Sons,
A Beauty-waining, and diftreffed Widow,
Even in the Afternoon of her best Day,
Made prize and purchase of his wanton Eye,
Seduc❜d the pitch, and height of his Degree,
To bafe Declenfion, and loath'd Bigamy.
By her, in his unlawful Bed, he got

This Edward, whom our Manners calls the Prince.
More bitterly could I expoftulate,

Save that for reverence of fome alive,

I give a fparing limit to my Tongue.
Then, good my Lord, take to your Royal Self
This proffer'd benefit of Dignity:

If not to blefs us, and the Land withal,
Yet to draw forth your noble Ancestry.
From the corruption of abufing times,
Unto a Lineal true derived courfe.

Mayor. Do, good my Lord, your Citizens intreat you. Buck. Refuse not, mighty Lord, this proffer'd Love. Catef. O make them joyful, grant their lawful Suit. Glo. Alas, why would you heap this Care on me? I am unfit for State, and Majefty:

I do beseech you take it not amiss,

I cannot, nor I will not yield to you.

Buck. If you refuse it, as in love and zeal,
Loath to depofe the Child your Brother's Son,
As well we know your tenderness of Heart,
And gentle, kind, effeminate remorse,
Which we have noted in you to your Kindred,
And equally indeed to all Eftates:

Yet know, where you accept our Suit, or no,
Your Brother's Son fhall bever reign our King,
But we will plant fome other in the Throne,
To the difgrace and down-fall of your House:
And in this refolution here we leave you.
Come Citizens, we will intreat no more.

Exeunt

Catef. Call him again, fweet Prince, accept their Suit: If you deny them, all the Land will rue it.

Glo. Will you inforce me to a World of Cares? Call them again, I am not made of Stones,

But