PRINCE.
No, uncle, but our crosses on the way
Have made it tedious, wearisome, and heavy.
I want more uncles here to welcome me.
RICHARD.
Sweet prince, the untainted virtue of your years
Hath not yet dived into the world’s deceit,
Nor more can you distinguish of a man
Than of his outward show, which, God He knows,
Seldom or never jumpeth with the heart.
Those uncles which you want were dangerous;
Your Grace attended to their sugared words
But looked not on the poison of their hearts.
God keep you from them, and from such false friends!
PRINCE.
God keep me from false friends, but they were none.
RICHARD.
My lord, the Mayor of London comes to greet you.
Enter Lord Mayor with Attendants.
MAYOR.
God bless your Grace with health and happy days!
PRINCE.
I thank you, good my lord, and thank you all.
I thought my mother and my brother York
Would long ere this have met us on the way.
Fie, what a slug is Hastings, that he comes not
To tell us whether they will come or no!
Enter Lord Hastings.
BUCKINGHAM.
And in good time, here comes the sweating lord.
PRINCE.
Welcome, my lord. What, will our mother come?