I pray you, uncle, give me this dagger

York
I pray you, uncle, give me this dagger.
Richard
My dagger, little cousin? With all my heart.
Prince
A beggar, brother?
York
Of my kind uncle, that I know will give,
And being but a toy, which is no grief to give.

To mitigate the scorn he gives his uncle,
He prettily and aptly taunts himself.
So cunning and so young is wonderful.

Richard
A greater gift than that I’ll give my cousin.
York
A greater gift? O, that’s the sword to it.
Richard
Ay, gentle cousin, were it light enough.
York
O, then I see you will part but with light gifts.
In weightier things you’ll say a beggar nay.
Richard
It is too heavy for your Grace to wear.
York
I weigh it lightly, were it heavier.
Richard
What, would you have my weapon, little lord?
York
I would, that I might thank you as you call me.
Richard
How?
York
Little.
Prince
My lord of York will still be cross in talk.
Uncle, your Grace knows how to bear with him.
York
You mean, to bear me, not to bear with me.—
Uncle, my brother mocks both you and me.
Because that I am little, like an ape,
He thinks that you should bear me on your shoulders.
Buckingham, aside
With what a sharp-provided wit he reasons!
To mitigate the scorn he gives his uncle,
He prettily and aptly taunts himself.
So cunning and so young is wonderful.