And, when my oration drew towards an end,
I bade them that did love their country's good,
Cry, God save Richard, England's royal King!
Glos. And did they so?

Buck. Not one, by Heaven!

But, like dumb statuas, or breathless stones,
Stared on each other, and looked deadly pale.
Which, when I saw, I reprehended them,
And asked the mayor, what meant this wilful silence?
His answer was, the people were not used
To be spoke to, but by the recorder.—
Then he was urged to tell my tale again;-
Thus saith the duke, thus hath the duke inferr'd,
But nothing spoke in warrant from himself.
When he had done, some followers of my own,
At lower end o'the hall, hurled up their caps,
And some ten voices cried, "God save King Richard!"
And thus I took the vantage of those few,-
"Thanks, gentle citizens and friends, quoth I,
This general applause, and cheerful shout

Argues your wisdom, and your love to Richard."
And even here broke off, and came away.

Glos. What tongueless blocks were they! Would they not speak?

Will not the mayor, then, and his brethren come?

Buck. The mayor is here at hand ;—intend some fear ;~~ Be not you spoke with, but by mighty suit:

And look you get a prayer-book in your hand,

And stand between two churchmen, good my lord;
For, on that ground, I'll make a holy descant ;-
And be not easily won to our requests ;-

Play the maid's part

Glos. My other self! my counsel's consistory! My oracle! my prophet! my dear cousin,

I, as a child, will go by your direction.

Buck. Hark! the lord mayor's at hand; away, my lord;

Nor doubt, but yet we reach our point propos'd.

Glos. We cannot fail, my Lord, when you are pilot.—

(Aside.) A little flattery sometimes does well.

(Exit Gloster.

Enter Lord Mayor and Aldermen.

Buck. Welcome, my lord: I dance attendance here; I am afraid the duke will not be spoke withal.

Enter Catesby.

Now, Catesby! what says the duke to my request?
Cates. He doth entreat your grace, my noble Lord,
To visit him to-morrow, or the next day:

He is within, with two right reverend fathers,
Divinely bent to meditation;

And in no worldly suit would he be moved,
To draw him from his holy exercise.

Buck. Return, good Catesby, to the gracious duke;
Tell him, myself, the mayor, and citizens,

In deep designs, in matters of great moment,
No less importing than our general good,

Are come to have some conference with his grace.
Cates. I'll signify so much unto him straight.

(Exit Catesby. Buck. Ah, ha! 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,

But meditating with two deep divines!

Happy were England, would this virtuous prince

Take on himself the sovereignty thereof.

Mayor. Marry, Heaven defend his grace should say us

nay.

Buck. I fear he will-we shall ne'er win him to it. You see, he comes not :

When holy and devout religious men

Are at their beads, 'tis hard to draw them thence.

Look there,-his door opens-now, where's our hope? Mayor. See where his grace stands, 'tween two clergy

men.

Buck. Two props of virtue for a Christian prince.
Mayor. 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;

How have I heard him vow, he thought it hard
The mayor should lose his title with his office!
Well, who knows? he may be won.

Mayor. Ab, my lord!

Enter Gloster with a Prayer-Book in
his hand, and Catesby.

Glos. Cousin of Buckingham,
I do beseech your grace to pardon me,
Who, earnest in my zealous meditation,
Neglect the visitation of my .riends.
Now do I fear, I have done some offence,
That looks disgracious in the city's eye.

Buck. You have, my lord; would it might please your grace,

On our entreaties, to amend your fault!

Glos. Else wherefore breathe I in a Christian land?
Buck. Know, then, it is your fault, that you resign
The sceptred office of your ancestors,

Fair England's throne, your own due right of Birth,
To the corruption of a blemish'd stock:

In this just suit come I to move your highness;
That on your gracious self you'd take the charge,
And kingly government of this your land;
Not as protector, steward, substitute,
Or lowly factor for another's gain,
But as, successively from blood to blood,
Your right of birth, your empery, your own.
Glos. I cannot tell, if to depart in silence,
Or bitterly to speak in your reproof,
Best fitteth my degree, or your condition:
Therefore, to speak, and to refuse your suit-
And then in speaking, not to check my friends,-
Definitively thus I answer you.

Your love deserves my thanks; but my desert
Unnritable, shuns your high request.

For Heav'n be thank'd, there is no need of me;
The royal tree hath left us royal fruit,
Which, mellow'd by the stealing hours of time,
Will well become the seat of majesty,

And make, no doubt, us happy by his reign.

On him I lay what you would lay on me,
The right and fortune of his happy stars,

Which, Heav'n defend, that I should wring from him.
Mayor. Gracious my lord, take to your royal self
This proffer'd benefit of dignity,

At once to bless us and the land withal.

Buck. Refuse not, mighty lord, this proffer'd love. Cates. O, make them joyful, grant their lawful suit. Glos. Alas! why would you heap those cares on me? I am unfit for state and majesty,

I do beseech you, take it not amiss;

I cannot, nor I will not yield to you.

Buck. If you refnse it—as in love and zeal, Loath to depose the child, your brother's son, As well we know your tenderness of heart,— Yet know, whe'r you accept our suit or no, Your brother's son shall never reign our king; But we will plant some other in your throne, To the disgrace and downfall of your house. And in this resolution here I leave you.

(Exit Buckingham.)

Cates. Call him again; sweet prince, accept their suit. Mayor. If you deny us, all the land will rue it. Glos. Will you enforce me to a world of cares? Well, call him again;-(Exit Catesby.)-I am not made of stone,

But penetrable to your kind entreaties.

Re-enter Catesby and Buckingham.

Cousin of Buckingham, and sage grave men,
Since you will buckle fortune on my back,
To bear her burden, whe'r I will, or no,
I must have patience to endure the load:
But if black scandal, or foul-fac'd reproach,
Attend the sequel of your imposition,
Your mere enforcement shall acquittance me;
For, Heav'n knows, and you may partly see,
How far I am from the desire of this.

Mayor. Heav'n bless your grace! we see it, and will say it.

Glos. In saying so, you shall but say the truth.

Buck. Then I salute you with this royal title,Long live King Richard, England's worthy King! (They kneel.)

To morrow may it please you to be crown'd?

Glos. Even when you please, since you will have it so. Buck. To-morrow then, we will attend your grace; And so, most joyfully, we take our leave.

Glos. Farewell, good cousin;-farewell, I must unto my holy work again.

gentle friends;

(Exeunt all but Gloster.)
Why now my golden dream is out!
Ambition, like an early friend, throws back
My curtains with an eager hand, o'erjoy'd
To tell me, what I dreamt is true-a crown!
Thou bright reward of ever daring minds !-
O, how thy awful glory wraps my
soul!
Nor can the means that got thee dim thy lustre,
For, not men's love,-fear pays thee adoration:
And fame

Not more survives from good, than evil deeds.
Th' aspiring youth, that fir'd the Ephesian dome,
Outlives, in fame, the pious fool that rais'd it.-
Conscience, lie still!-more lives must yet be drain'd,
Crowns got with blood, must be with blood maintain'd!

(Exit.

END OF ACT THE THIRD,