fca SCENE I. London. A street.
The trumpets sound. Enter the young PRINCE, the Dukes of GLOUCESTER and BUCKINGHAM, CARDINAL BOURCHIER, CATESBY, and others.
[♦] Buck. Welcome, sweet prince, to London, to your chamber.
Glou. Welcome, dear cousin, my thoughts’ sovereign:
The weary way hath made you melancholy.
Prince. No, uncle; but our crosses on the way
[5] Have made it tedious, wearisome, and heavy:
I want more uncles here to welcome me.
Glou. Sweet prince, the untainted virtue of your years
[♦] Hath not yet dived into the world’s deceit: