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
Glo. Why, what should you feare?
Yorke. Marry, my Vnckle Clarence angry Ghost:
My Grandam told me he was murther'd there
Prince. I feare no Vnckles dead
Glo. Nor none that liue, I hope
Prince. And if they liue, I hope I need not feare.
But come my Lord: and with a heauie heart,
Thinking on them, goe I vnto the Tower.