The Mayor should lose his title with his office! Buck. See, he comes forth-my friends, be resolute; I know he's cautious to a fault: but do not Leave him, till our honest suit be granted. Enter GLOSTER, with a Book. Glost. Cousin of Buckingham, I do beseech your grace to pardon me, Glost. Else wherefore breathe I in a christian land? Buck. Know then, it is your fault that you resign The scepter'd office of your ancestors, Fair England's throne, your own due right of birth, In this just cause, I come, to move your highness, Your love deserves my thanks; but my desert, For, Heav'n be thank'd, there is no need of me; Catesby. My lord, he humbly does entreat your grace To visit him to-morrow, or the next day: He's now retir'd with two right reverend fathers, And in no worldly suits would he be mov'd, Buck. Return, good Catesby, to the gracious duke: Tell him, myself, the Mayor and Citizens, In deep designs, in matters of great moment, Are come to have some conference with his grace. ness. Buck. Al, my lord! this prince is not an Edward : He is not lolling on a lewd love-bed, But on his knees at meditation; Not dallying with a brace of courtezans; Lord M. Happy indeed, my lord. He will not, sure, refuse our proffer'd love? Buck. Alas, my lord! you know him not: his mind's Above this world-he's for a crown immortal. Look there, his door opens; now where's our hope? Lord. M. See where his grace stands, 'tween two clergymen ! Buck. Ay, ay, 'tis there he's caught-there's his ambition. Lord M. How low he bows, to thank them for their care! And see! a prayer-book in his hand! Buck. 'Would he were king, we'd give him leave to pray! Methinks I wish it, for the love he bears the city. The Mayor should lose his title with his office! Buck. See, he comes forth-my friends, be resolute; I know he's cautious to a fault: but do not Leave him, till our honest suit be granted. Enter GLOSTER, with a Book. Glost. Cousin of Buckingham, I do beseech your grace to pardon me, Buck. You have, my lord: we wish your grace, On our entreaties, would amend your fault. Glost. Else wherefore breathe I in a christian land? Buck. Know then, it is your fault that you resign The scepter'd office of your ancestors, Fair England's throne, your own due right of birth, In this just cause, I come, to move your highness, Your love deserves my thanks; but my desert, For, Heav'n be thank'd, there is no need of me; The royal stock has left us royal fruit, Which, mellow'd by the stealing hours of time, To wear this precious robe of dignity, Which on a child must sit too loose and heavy; 'Tis yours, befitting both your wisdom and your birth. Catesby. My lord, this coldness is unkind, Nor suits it with such ardent loyalty. Buck. Oh, make them happy! grant their lawful suit. Glost. Alas! why would you heap this care on me? I am unfit for state and majesty. I thank you for your loves, but must declare (I do beseech you take it not amiss) I will not, dare not, must not, yield to you. Buck. If you refuse us, through a soft remorse, Loath to depose the child, your brother's son (As well we know your tenderness of heart); Yet know, tho' you deny us to the last, Your brother's son shall never reign our king, But we will plant some other on the throne, To the disgrace and downfall of your house: And, thus resolv'd, I bid you, sir, farewell. My lord, and gentlemen, I beg your pardon; For this vain trouble-my intent was good, I would have serv'd my country and my king: But 'twill not be-farewell, till next we meet. Lord M. Be not too rash, my lord: his grace relents. Buck. Away, you but deceive yourselves. Catesby. Sweet prince, accept their suit. [Exit. Lord M. If you deny us, all the land will rue it. Glost. Call him again-[Exit CATESBY.] you will enforce me to A world of cares-I am not made of stone, Enter BUCKINGHAM and CATESBY. Cousin of Buckingham, and sage, grave, men, Lord M. Heaven guard your grace! we see it, and will say it. Glost. You will but say the truth, my lord. Buck. My heart's so full, it scarce has vent for words; My knee will better speak my duty, now! Long live our sovereign, Richard, king of England. Glost. Indeed, your words have touch'd me nearly, cousin! Pray rise-I wish you could recall them. Buck. It would be treason, now, my lord; to If it so please your majesty, from council Glost. E'en when you please, for you will have it so. Buck, To-morrow then we will attend your majesty. And now we take our leaves with joy. Glost. Cousin, adieu-my loving friends, farewell. I must unto my holy work again. [Exeunt all but RICHARD. Why, now my golden dream is outAmbition, like an early friend, throws back |