Prince. Is it vpon record? or else reported Successiuely from age to age, he built it? Buck. Vpon record, my gracious Lord

Prince. But say, my Lord, it were not registred, Me thinkes the truth should liue from age to age, As 'twere retayl'd to all posteritie, Euen to the generall ending day

Glo. So wise, so young, they say doe neuer liue long

Prince. What say you, Vnckle? Glo. I say, without Characters, Fame liues long. Thus, like the formall Vice, Iniquitie, I morallize two meanings in one word

Prince. That Iulius Csar was a famous man, With what his Valour did enrich his Wit, His Wit set downe, to make his Valour liue: Death makes no Conquest of his Conqueror, For now he liues in Fame, though not in Life. Ile tell you what, my Cousin Buckingham

Buck. What, my gracious Lord? Prince. And if I liue vntill I be a man, Ile win our ancient Right in France againe, Or dye a Souldier, as I liu'd a King

Glo. Short Summers lightly haue a forward Spring. Enter young Yorke, Hastings, and Cardinall.

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

Prince. Richard of Yorke, how fares our Noble 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 Title, Which by his death hath lost much Maiestie

Glo. How fares our Cousin, Noble 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 passe 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

William Shakespeare
Classic Literature Library

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