BUCKINGHAM: You cloudy princes and heart-sorrowing peers, That bear this mutual heavy load of moan, Now cheer each other in each other's love Though we have spent our harvest of this king, We are to reap the harvest of his son. The broken rancour of your high-swoln hearts, But lately splinter'd, knit, and join'd together, Must gently be preserved, cherish'd, and kept: Me seemeth good, that, with some little train, Forthwith from Ludlow the young prince be fetch'd Hither to London, to be crown'd our king.