And England is the land favour'd by Commerce;
For Commerce, though the child of Agriculture,
Fosters his parent, who else must sweat and toil
And gain but scanty fare. Then, my dear Lord,
Be England's trade our care; and we, as tradesmen,
Looking to the gain of this, our native land.
Clarence.
O my good lord,
True wisdom drops like honey from your tongue
As from a worshipp'd oak! Forgive my lords,
My talkative youth that speaks not merely what
My narrow observation has pick'd up,
But what I have concluded from your lessons:
Now, by the Queen's advice, I ask your leave
To dine to-morrow with the Mayor of London:
If I obtain your leave, I have another boon
To ask, which is the favour of your company;
I fear Lord Percy will not give me leave.
Percy.
Dear Sir, a prince should always keep his state,
And grant his favours with a sparing hand,
Or they are never rightly valued.
These are my thoughts: yet it were best to go:
But keep a proper dignity, for now
You represent the sacred person of
Your father; 'tis with princes as the sun;
