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Therefore he sends to know your lordship's pleasure,—
If presently you will take horse with him,

And with all speed post with him toward the north,

To shun the danger that his soul divines.

Hast. Go, fellow, go, return unto thy lord;
Bid him not fear the separated councils :
His honour and myself are at the one,
And at the other is my good friend Catesby;
Where nothing can proceed that toucheth us
Whereof I shall not have intelligence.

Tell him his fears are shallow, wanting instance :
And for his dreams, I wonder he's so fond
To trust the mockery of unquiet slumbers:
To fly the boar before the boar pursues,
Were to incense the boar to follow us,
And make pursuit where he did mean no chase.
Go, bid thy master rise and come to me ;

And we will both together to the Tower,

Where he shall see the boar will use us kindly.

Mess.

Cates.

I'll go, my lord, and tell him what you say. [Exit.

Enter CATESBY.

Many good morrows to my noble lord!

Hast. Good morrow, Catesby; you are early stirring : What news, what news, in this our tottering state?

Cates. It is a reeling world, indeed, my lord;

And I believe will never stand upright

Till Richard wear the garland of the realm.

Hast.
Cates,
Hast.

How! wear the garland! dost thou mean the crown?
Ay, my good lord.

I'll have this crown of mine cut from my shoulders

Before I'll see the crown so foul misplac'd.

But canst thou guess that he doth aim at it?

Cates. Ay, on my life; and hopes to find you forward

Upon his party for the gain thereof:

And thereupon he sends you this good news,

That this same very day your enemies,

The kindred of the queen, must die at Pomfret.

Hast. Indeed, I am no mourner for that news,

Because they have been still my adversaries :

But, that I'll give my voice on Richard's side,
To bar my master's heirs in true descent,
God knows I will not do it to the death.

Cates.
Hast.
That they who brought me in my master's hate,
I live to look upon their tragedy.

God keep your lordship in that gracious mind!
But I shall laugh at this a twelve-month hence,—

Well, Catesby, ere a fortnight make me older,
I'll send some packing that yet think not on't.
Cates. 'Tis a vile thing to die, my gracious lord,
When men are unprepar'd and look not for it.

:

Hast. O monstrous, monstrous! and so falls it out
With Rivers, Vaughan, Grey and so 'twill do
With some men else, that think themselves as safe
As thou and I; who, as thou know'st, are dear
To princely Richard and to Buckingham.

Cates. The princes both make high account of you,[Aside.] For they account his head upon the bridge. Hast. I know they do; and I have well deserv'd it.

Enter STANLEY.

Come on, come on; where is your boar-spear, man?

Fear you the boar, and go so unprovided?

Stan. My lord, good morrow ;—good morrow, Catesby :—

You may jest on, but, by the holy rood,

I do not like these several councils, I.

Hast. I hold my life as dear as you do yours;

And never in my days, I do protest,

Was it more precious to me than 'tis now:

Think you, but that I know our state secure,

I would be so triumphant as I am?

Stan. The lords at Pomfret, when they rode from London, Were jocund, and suppos'd their states were sure,—

And they, indeed, had no cause to mistrust;

But yet, you see, how soon the day o'ercast.

This sudden stab of rancour I misdoubt:

Pray God, I say, I prove a needless coward!

What, shall we toward the Tower? the day is spent.

Hast. Come, come, have with you.-Wot you what, my

lord?

To-day the lords you talk of are beheaded.

Stan. They, for their truth, might better wear their heads Than some that have accus'd them wear their hats,— But come, my lord, let us away.

[Exeunt.

ACT III

SCENE I. London. A Room in the Tower.

BUCKINGHAM, STANLEY, HASTINGS, the BISHOP OF ELY, RATCLIFF, LOVEL, and others, sitting at a table; Officers of the Council attending.

Hast.

Now, noble peers, the cause why we are met

Is, to determine of the coronation.

In God's name, speak,—when is the royal day?

Buck.

Stan.
Ely.

Buck.

Are all things ready for that royal time?
It is; and wants but nomination.

To-morrow, then, I judge a happy day.

Who knows the lord protector's mind herein?

Who is most inward with the noble duke?

Ely. Your grace, we think, should soonest know his mind.
Buck. We know each other's faces: for our hearts,

He knows no more of mine than I of yours;

Nor I of his, my lord, than you of mine.—
Lord Hastings, you and he are near in love.

Hast. I thank his grace, I know he loves me well;
But, for his purpose in the coronation,

I have not sounded him, nor he deliver'd

His gracious pleasure any way therein :

But you, my noble lords, may name the time;
And in the duke's behalf I'll give my voice,

Which, I presume, he'll take in gentle part.

Ely.

In happy time, here comes the duke himself.

Enter GLOSTER.

Glo. My noble lords and cousins all, good morrow. I have been long a sleeper: but, I trust,

My absence doth neglect no great design,

Which by my presence might have been concluded.
Buck. Had you not come upon your cue, my lord,
William Lord Hastings had pronounc'd your part,—
I mean, your voice,-for crowning of the king.

Glo. Than my Lord Hastings no man might be bolder; His lordship knows me well, and loves me well.

My Lord of Ely, when I was last in Holborn ;

I saw good strawberries in your garden there :
I do beseech you send for some of them.

Ely.
Glo.

Marry, and will, my lord, with all my heart.
Cousin of Buckingham, a word with you.

[Exit.

[Takes him aside.

Catesby hath sounded Hastings in our business,
And finds the testy gentleman so hot,
That he will lose his head ere give consent
His master's child, as worshipfully he terms it,
Shall lose the royalty of England's throne.

Buck. Withdraw you hence, my lord; I'll follow you.
[Exit GLOSTER, followed by BUCKINGHAM.
Stan. We have not yet set down this day of triumph.
To-morrow, in my judgment, is too sudden;

For I myself am not so well provided

As else I would be, were the day prolong'd.

Hast. His grace looks cheerfully and smooth to-day;
There's some conceit or other likes him well,

When he doth bid good-morrow with such spirit.
I think there's ne'er a man in Christendom

Can lesser hide his love or hate than he ;

For by his face straight shall you know his heart.

Stan. What of his heart perceive you in his face

By any likelihood he show'd to-day?

Hast. Marry, that with no man here he's offended; For, were he, he had shown it in his looks.

Re-enter GLOSTER and BUCKINGHAM.

Glo. I pray you all, tell me what they deserve
That do conspire my death with devilish plots
Of damnéd witchcraft, and that have prevail'd
Upon my body with their hellish charms?

Hast. The tender love I bear your grace, my lord,
Makes me most forward in this noble presence
To doom th' offenders: whosoe'er they be,

I say, my lord, they have deserved death.

Glo. Then be your eyes the witness of their evil :
Look how I am bewitch'd; behold mine arm
Is, like a blasted sapling, wither'd up:

And this is Edward's wife, that monstrous witch,
Consorted with that harlot-strumpet Shore,

That by their witchcraft thus have markéd me.

Hast. If they have done this thing, my gracious lord,— Glo. If! thou protector of this damnéd strumpet, Talk'st thou to me of "ifs"? Thou art a traitor :Off with his head !-now, by Saint Paul, I swear I will not dine until I see the same.

:

Lovel and Ratcliff, look that it be done :

The rest, that love me, rise and follow me.

[Exeunt all, except HASTINGS, LOVEL, and RATCLIFF. Hast. Woe, woe for England! not a whit for me;

For I, too fond, might have prevented this.
Stanley did dream the boar did raze his helm ;
But I disdain'd it, and did scorn to fly :

Three times to-day my foot-cloth horse did stumble,
And started when he look'd upon the Tower,
As loth to bear me to the slaughter-house.
O, now I need the priest that spake to me:
I now repent I told the pursuivant,
As too triumphing, how mine enemies
To-day at Pomfret bloodily were butcher'd,
And I myself secure in grace and favour.

Rat. Dispatch, my lord; the duke would be at dinner : Make a short shrift; he longs to see your head.

Hast. O momentary grace of mortal men,

Which we more hunt for than the grace of God!
Who builds his hope in air of your fair looks,
Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast,

Ready, with every nod, to tumble down

Into the fatal bowels of the deep.

Lov. Come, come, dispatch; 'tis bootless to exclaim.
Hast. O bloody Richard !—miserable England!

I prophesy the fearfull'st time to thee

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