DUCHESS.
I prithee, pretty York, who told thee this?
YORK.
Grandam, his nurse.
DUCHESS.
His nurse? Why she was dead ere thou wast born.
YORK.
If ’twere not she, I cannot tell who told me.
QUEEN ELIZABETH.
A parlous boy! Go to, you are too shrewd.
DUCHESS.
Good madam, be not angry with the child.
QUEEN ELIZABETH.
Pitchers have ears.
Enter a Messenger.
ARCHBISHOP.
Here comes a messenger. What news?
MESSENGER.
Such news, my lord, as grieves me to report.