King Richard III · Chapter 3Part 3
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Qu. A holy day shall this be kept heereafter: I would to God all strifes were well compounded. My Soueraigne Lord, I do beseech your Highnesse To take our Brother Clarence to your Grace
Rich. Why Madam, haue I offred loue for this, To be so flowted in this Royall presence? Who knowes not that the gentle Duke is dead?
They all start.
You do him iniurie to scorne his Coarse
King. Who knowes not he is dead? Who knowes he is? Qu. All-seeing heauen, what a world is this? Buc. Looke I so pale Lord Dorset, as the rest? Dor. I my good Lord, and no man in the presence, But his red colour hath forsooke his cheekes
King. Is Clarence dead? The Order was reuerst
Rich. But he (poore man) by your first order dyed, And that a winged Mercurie did beare: Some tardie Cripple bare the Countermand, That came too lagge to see him buried. God grant, that some lesse Noble, and lesse Loyall, Neerer in bloody thoughts, and not in blood, Deserue not worse then wretched Clarence did, And yet go currant from Suspition. Enter Earle of Derby.
Der. A boone my Soueraigne for my seruice done
King. I prethee peace, my soule is full of sorrow
Der. I will not rise, vnlesse your Highnes heare me
King. Then say at once, what is it thou requests
Der. The forfeit (Soueraigne) of my seruants life, Who slew to day a Riotous Gentleman, Lately attendant on the Duke of Norfolke
King. Haue I a tongue to doome my Brothers death? And shall that tongue giue pardon to a slaue? My Brother kill'd no man, his fault was Thought, And yet his punishment was bitter death. Who sued to me for him? Who (in my wrath) Kneel'd and my feet, and bid me be aduis'd? Who spoke of Brother-hood? who spoke of loue? Who told me how the poore soule did forsake The mighty Warwicke, and did fight for me? Who told me in the field at Tewkesbury, When Oxford had me downe, he rescued me: And said deare Brother liue, and be a King? Who told me, when we both lay in the Field, Frozen (almost) to death, how he did lap me Euen in his Garments, and did giue himselfe (All thin and naked) to the numbe cold night? All this from my Remembrance, brutish wrath Sinfully pluckt, and not a man of you Had so much grace to put it in my minde. But when your Carters, or your wayting Vassalls Haue done a drunken Slaughter, and defac'd The precious Image of our deere Redeemer, You straight are on your knees for Pardon, pardon, And I (vniustly too) must grant it you. But for my Brother, not a man would speake, Nor I (vngracious) speake vnto my selfe For him poore Soule. The proudest of you all, Haue bin beholding to him in his life: Yet none of you, would once begge for his life. O God! I feare thy iustice will take hold On me, and you; and mine, and yours for this. Come Hastings helpe me to my Closset. Ah poore Clarence.
Exeunt. some with K[ing]. & Queen.
Rich. This is the fruits of rashnes: Markt you not, How that the guilty Kindred of the Queene Look'd pale, when they did heare of Clarence death. O! they did vrge it still vnto the King, God will reuenge it. Come Lords will you go, To comfort Edward with our company
Buc. We wait vpon your Grace.
Exeunt.
Scena Secunda.
Enter the old Dutchesse of Yorke, with the two children of Clarence.
Edw. Good Grandam tell vs, is our Father dead? Dutch. No Boy
Daugh. Why do weepe so oft? And beate your Brest? And cry, O Clarence, my vnhappy Sonne
Boy. Why do you looke on vs, and shake your head, And call vs Orphans, Wretches, Castawayes, If that our Noble Father were aliue? Dut. My pretty Cosins, you mistake me both, I do lament the sicknesse of the King, As loath to lose him, not your Fathers death: It were lost sorrow to waile one that's lost
Boy. Then you conclude, (my Grandam) he is dead: The King mine Vnckle is too blame for it. God will reuenge it, whom I will importune With earnest prayers, all to that effect
Daugh. And so will I
Dut. Peace children peace, the King doth loue you wel. Incapeable, and shallow Innocents, You cannot guesse who caus'd your Fathers death
Boy. Grandam we can: for my good Vnkle Gloster Told me, the King prouok'd to it by the Queene, Deuis'd impeachments to imprison him; And when my Vnckle told me so, he wept, And pittied me, and kindly kist my cheeke: Bad me rely on him, as on my Father, And he would loue me deerely as a childe
Dut. Ah! that Deceit should steale such gentle shape, And with a vertuous Vizor hide deepe vice. He is my sonne, I, and therein my shame, Yet from my dugges, he drew not this deceit
Boy. Thinke you my Vnkle did dissemble Grandam? Dut. I Boy
Boy. I cannot thinke it. Hearke, what noise is this? Enter the Queene with her haire about her ears, Riuers & Dorset after her.
Qu. Ah! who shall hinder me to waile and weepe? To chide my Fortune, and torment my Selfe. Ile ioyne with blacke dispaire against my Soule, And to my selfe, become an enemie
Dut. What meanes this Scene of rude impatience? Qu. To make an act of Tragicke violence. Edward my Lord, thy Sonne, our King is dead. Why grow the Branches, when the Roote is gone? Why wither not the leaues that want their sap? If you will liue, Lament: if dye, be breefe, That our swift-winged Soules may catch the Kings, Or like obedient Subiects follow him, To his new Kingdome of nere-changing night
Dut. Ah so much interest haue in thy sorrow, As I had Title in thy Noble Husband: I haue bewept a worthy Husbands death, And liu'd with looking on his Images: But now two Mirrors of his Princely semblance, Are crack'd in pieces, by malignant death, And I for comfort, haue but one false Glasse, That greeues me, when I see my shame in him. Thou art a Widdow: yet thou art a Mother, And hast the comfort of thy Children left, But death hath snatch'd my Husband from mine Armes, And pluckt two Crutches from my feeble hands, Clarence, and Edward. O, what cause haue I, (Thine being but a moity of my moane) To ouer-go thy woes, and drowne thy cries
Boy. Ah Aunt! you wept not for our Fathers death: How can we ayde you with our Kindred teares? Daugh. Our fatherlesse distresse was left vnmoan'd, Your widdow-dolour, likewise be vnwept
Qu. Giue me no helpe in Lamentation, I am not barren to bring forth complaints: All Springs reduce their currents to mine eyes, That I being gouern'd by the waterie Moone, May send forth plenteous teares to drowne the World. Ah, for my Husband, for my deere Lord Edward
Chil. Ah for our Father, for our deere Lord Clarence
Dut. Alas for both, both mine Edward and Clarence
Qu. What stay had I but Edward, and hee's gone? Chil. What stay had we but Clarence? and he's gone
Dut. What stayes had I, but they? and they are gone
Qu. Was neuer widdow had so deere a losse
Chil. Were neuer Orphans had so deere a losse
Dut. Was neuer Mother had so deere a losse. Alas! I am the Mother of these Greefes, Their woes are parcell'd, mine is generall. She for an Edward weepes, and so do I: I for a Clarence weepes, so doth not shee: These Babes for Clarence weepe, so do not they. Alas! you three, on me threefold distrest: Power all your teares, I am your sorrowes Nurse, And I will pamper it with Lamentation
Dor. Comfort deere Mother, God is much displeas'd, That you take with vnthankfulnesse his doing. In common worldly things, 'tis call'd vngratefull, With dull vnwillingnesse to repay a debt, Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent: Much more to be thus opposite with heauen, For it requires the Royall debt it lent you
Riuers. Madam, bethinke you like a carefull Mother Of the young Prince your sonne: send straight for him, Let him be Crown'd, in him your comfort liues. Drowne desperate sorrow in dead Edwards graue, And plant your ioyes in liuing Edwards Throne. Enter Richard, Buckingham, Derbie, Hastings, and Ratcliffe.
Rich. Sister haue comfort, all of vs haue cause To waile the dimming of our shining Starre: But none can helpe our harmes by wayling them. Madam, my Mother, I do cry you mercie, I did not see your Grace. Humbly on my knee, I craue your Blessing
Dut. God blesse thee, and put meeknes in thy breast, Loue Charity, Obedience, and true Dutie
Rich. Amen, and make me die a good old man, That is the butt-end of a Mothers blessing; I maruell that her Grace did leaue it out
Buc. You clowdy-Princes, & hart-sorowing-Peeres, That beare this heauie mutuall loade of Moane, Now cheere each other, in each others Loue: Though we haue spent our Haruest of this King, We are to reape the Haruest of his Sonne. The broken rancour of your high-swolne hates, But lately splinter'd, knit, and ioyn'd together, Must gently be preseru'd, cherisht, and kept: Me seemeth good, that with some little Traine, Forthwith from Ludlow, the young Prince be set Hither to London, to be crown'd our King
Riuers. Why with some little Traine, My Lord of Buckingham? Buc. Marrie my Lord, least by a multitude, The new-heal'd wound of Malice should breake out, Which would be so much the more dangerous, By how much the estate is greene, and yet vngouern'd. Where euery Horse beares his commanding Reine, And may direct his course as please himselfe, As well the feare of harme, as harme apparant, In my opinion, ought to be preuented
Rich. I hope the King made peace with all of vs, And the compact is firme, and true in me
Riu. And so in me, and so (I thinke) in all. Yet since it is but greene, it should be put To no apparant likely-hood of breach, Which haply by much company might be vrg'd: Therefore I say with Noble Buckingham, That it is meete so few should fetch the Prince
Hast. And so say I
Rich. Then be it so, and go we to determine Who they shall be that strait shall poste to London. Madam, and you my Sister, will you go To giue your censures in this businesse.
Exeunt.
Manet Buckingham, and Richard.
Buc. My Lord, who euer iournies to the Prince, For God sake let not vs two stay at home: For by the way, Ile sort occasion, As Index to the story we late talk'd of, To part the Queenes proud Kindred from the Prince
Rich. My other selfe, my Counsailes Consistory, My Oracle, My Prophet, my deere Cosin, I, as a childe, will go by thy direction, Toward London then, for wee'l not stay behinde.
Exeunt.
Scena Tertia.
Enter one Citizen at one doore, and another at the other.
1.Cit. Good morrow Neighbour, whether away so fast? 2.Cit. I promise you, I scarsely know my selfe: Heare you the newes abroad? 1. Yes, that the King is dead
2. Ill newes byrlady, seldome comes the better: I feare, I feare, 'twill proue a giddy world. Enter another Citizen.
3. Neighbours, God speed
1. Giue you good morrow sir
3. Doth the newes hold of good king Edwards death? 2. I sir, it is too true, God helpe the while
3. Then Masters looke to see a troublous world
1. No, no, by Gods good grace, his Son shall reigne
3. Woe to that Land that's gouern'd by a Childe
2. In him there is a hope of Gouernment, Which in his nonage, counsell vnder him, And in his full and ripened yeares, himselfe No doubt shall then, and till then gouerne well
1. So stood the State, when Henry the sixt Was crown'd in Paris, but at nine months old
3. Stood the State so? No, no, good friends, God wot For then this Land was famously enrich'd With politike graue Counsell; then the King Had vertuous Vnkles to protect his Grace
1. Why so hath this, both by his Father and Mother
3. Better it were they all came by his Father: Or by his Father there were none at all: For emulation, who shall now be neerest, Will touch vs all too neere, if God preuent not. O full of danger is the Duke of Glouster, And the Queenes Sons, and Brothers, haught and proud: And were they to be rul'd, and not to rule, This sickly Land, might solace as before
1. Come, come, we feare the worst: all will be well
3. When Clouds are seen, wisemen put on their clokes; When great leaues fall, then Winter is at hand; When the Sun sets, who doth not looke for night? Vntimely stormes, makes men expect a Dearth: All may be well; but if God sort it so, 'Tis more then we deserue, or I expect
2. Truly, the hearts of men are full of feare: You cannot reason (almost) with a man, That lookes not heauily, and full of dread
3. Before the dayes of Change, still is it so, By a diuine instinct, mens mindes mistrust Pursuing danger: as by proofe we see The Water swell before a boyst'rous storme: But leaue it all to God. Whither away? 2 Marry we were sent for to the Iustices
3 And so was I: Ile beare you company.
Exeunt.
Scena Quarta.
Enter Arch-bishop, yong Yorke, the Queene, and the Dutchesse.
Arch. Last night I heard they lay at Stony Stratford, And at Northampton they do rest to night: To morrow, or next day, they will be heere
Dut. I long with all my heart to see the Prince: I hope he is much growne since last I saw him
Qu. But I heare no, they say my sonne of Yorke Ha's almost ouertane him in his growth
Yorke. I Mother, but I would not haue it so
Dut. Why my good Cosin, it is good to grow
Yor. Grandam, one night as we did sit at Supper, My Vnkle Riuers talk'd how I did grow More then my Brother. I, quoth my Vnkle Glouster, Small Herbes haue grace, great Weeds do grow apace. And since, me thinkes I would not grow so fast, Because sweet Flowres are slow, and Weeds make hast
Dut. Good faith, good faith, the saying did not hold In him that did obiect the same to thee. He was the wretched'st thing when he was yong, So long a growing, and so leysurely, That if his rule were true, he should be gracious
Yor. And so no doubt he is, my gracious Madam
Dut. I hope he is, but yet let Mothers doubt
Yor. Now by my troth, if I had beene remembred, I could haue giuen my Vnkles Grace, a flout, To touch his growth, neerer then he toucht mine
Dut. How my yong Yorke, I prythee let me heare it
Yor. Marry (they say) my Vnkle grew so fast, That he could gnaw a crust at two houres old, 'Twas full two yeares ere I could get a tooth. Grandam, this would haue beene a byting Iest
Dut. I prythee pretty Yorke, who told thee this? Yor. Grandam, his Nursse
Dut. His Nurse? why she was dead, ere y wast borne
Yor. If 'twere not she, I cannot tell who told me
Qu. A parlous Boy: go too, you are too shrew'd
Dut. Good Madam, be not angry with the Childe
Qu. Pitchers haue eares. Enter a Messenger.
Arch. Heere comes a Messenger: What Newes? Mes. Such newes my Lord, as greeues me to report
Qu. How doth the Prince? Mes. Well Madam, and in health
Dut. What is thy Newes? Mess. Lord Riuers, and Lord Grey, Are sent to Pomfret, and with them, Sir Thomas Vaughan, Prisoners
Dut. Who hath committed them? Mes. The mighty Dukes, Glouster and Buckingham
Arch. For what offence? Mes. The summe of all I can, I haue disclos'd: Why, or for what, the Nobles were committed, Is all vnknowne to me, my gracious Lord
Qu. Aye me! I see the ruine of my House: The Tyger now hath seiz'd the gentle Hinde, Insulting Tiranny beginnes to Iutt Vpon the innocent and awelesse Throne: Welcome Destruction, Blood, and Massacre, I see (as in a Map) the end of all
Dut. Accursed, and vnquiet wrangling dayes, How many of you haue mine eyes beheld? My Husband lost his life, to get the Crowne, And often vp and downe my sonnes were tost For me to ioy, and weepe, their gaine and losse. And being seated, and Domesticke broyles Cleane ouer-blowne, themselues the Conquerors, Make warre vpon themselues, Brother to Brother; Blood to blood, selfe against selfe: O prepostorous And franticke outrage, end thy damned spleene, Or let me dye, to looke on earth no more
Qu. Come, come my Boy, we will to Sanctuary. Madam, farwell
Dut. Stay, I will go with you
Qu. You haue no cause
Arch. My gracious Lady go, And thether beare your Treasure and your Goodes, For my part, Ile resigne vnto your Grace The Seale I keepe, and so betide to me, As well I tender you, and all of yours. Go, Ile conduct you to the Sanctuary.
Exeunt.
Actus Tertius. Scoena Prima.
The Trumpets sound.
Enter yong Prince, the Dukes of Glocester, and Buckingham, Lord Cardinall, with others.
Buc. Welcome sweete Prince to London, To your Chamber
Rich. Welcome deere Cosin, my thoughts Soueraign The wearie way hath made you Melancholly
Prin. No Vnkle, but our crosses on the way, Haue made it tedious, wearisome, and heauie. I want more Vnkles heere to welcome me
Rich. Sweet Prince, the vntainted vertue of your yeers Hath not yet diu'd into the Worlds deceit: No more can you distinguish of a man, Then of his outward shew, which God he knowes, Seldome or neuer iumpeth with the heart. Those Vnkles which you want, were dangerous: Your Grace attended to their Sugred words, But look'd not on the poyson of their hearts: God keepe you from them, and from such false Friends
Prin. God keepe me from false Friends, But they were none
Rich. My Lord, the Maior of London comes to greet you. Enter Lord Maior.
Lo.Maior. God blesse your Grace, with health and happie dayes
Prin. I thanke you, good my Lord, and thank you all: I thought my Mother, and my Brother Yorke, Would long, ere this, haue met vs on the way. Fie, what a Slug is Hastings, that he comes not To tell vs, whether they will come, or no. Enter Lord Hastings.
Buck. And in good time, heere comes the sweating Lord
Prince. Welcome, my Lord: what, will our Mother come? Hast. On what occasion God he knowes, not I; The Queene your Mother, and your Brother Yorke, Haue taken Sanctuarie: The tender Prince Would faine haue come with me, to meet your Grace, But by his Mother was perforce with-held
Buck. Fie, what an indirect and peeuish course Is this of hers? Lord Cardinall, will your Grace Perswade the Queene, to send the Duke of Yorke Vnto his Princely Brother presently? If she denie, Lord Hastings goe with him, And from her iealous Armes pluck him perforce
Card. My Lord of Buckingham, if my weake Oratorie Can from his Mother winne the Duke of Yorke, Anon expect him here: but if she be obdurate To milde entreaties, God forbid We should infringe the holy Priuiledge Of blessed Sanctuarie: not for all this Land, Would I be guiltie of so great a sinne
Buck. You are too sencelesse obstinate, my Lord, Too ceremonious, and traditionall. Weigh it but with the grossenesse of this Age, You breake not Sanctuarie, in seizing him: The benefit thereof is alwayes granted To those, whose dealings haue deseru'd the place, And those who haue the wit to clayme the place: This Prince hath neyther claym'd it, nor deseru'd it, And therefore, in mine opinion, cannot haue it. Then taking him from thence, that is not there, You breake no Priuiledge, nor Charter there: Oft haue I heard of Sanctuarie men, But Sanctuarie children, ne're till now
Card. My Lord, you shall o're-rule my mind for once. Come on, Lord Hastings, will you goe with me? Hast. I goe, my Lord.
Exit Cardinall and Hastings.
Prince. Good Lords, make all the speedie hast you may. Say, Vnckle Glocester, if our Brother come, Where shall we soiourne, till our Coronation? Glo. Where it think'st best vnto your Royall selfe. If I may counsaile you, some day or two Your Highnesse shall repose you at the Tower: Then where you please, and shall be thought most fit For your best health, and recreation
Prince. I doe not like the Tower, of any place: Did Iulius Cæsar build that place, my Lord? Buck. He did, my gracious Lord, begin that place, Which since, succeeding Ages haue re-edify'd
Prince. Is it vpon record? or else reported Successiuely from age to age, he built it? Buck. Vpon record, my gracious Lord
Prince. But say, my Lord, it were not registred, Me thinkes the truth should liue from age to age, As 'twere retayl'd to all posteritie, Euen to the generall ending day
Glo. So wise, so young, they say doe neuer liue long
Prince. What say you, Vnckle? Glo. I say, without Characters, Fame liues long. Thus, like the formall Vice, Iniquitie, I morallize two meanings in one word
Prince. That Iulius Cæsar was a famous man, With what his Valour did enrich his Wit, His Wit set downe, to make his Valour liue: Death makes no Conquest of his Conqueror, For now he liues in Fame, though not in Life. Ile tell you what, my Cousin Buckingham
Buck. What, my gracious Lord? Prince. And if I liue vntill I be a man, Ile win our ancient Right in France againe, Or dye a Souldier, as I liu'd a King
Glo. Short Summers lightly haue a forward Spring. Enter young Yorke, Hastings, and Cardinall.
Buck. Now in good time, heere comes the Duke of Yorke
Prince. Richard of Yorke, how fares our Noble Brother? Yorke. Well, my deare Lord, so must I call you now
Prince. I, Brother, to our griefe, as it is yours: Too late he dy'd, that might haue kept that Title, Which by his death hath lost much Maiestie
Glo. How fares our Cousin, Noble Lord of Yorke? Yorke. I thanke you, gentle Vnckle. O my Lord, You said, that idle Weeds are fast in growth: The Prince, my Brother, hath out-growne me farre
Glo. He hath, my Lord
Yorke. And therefore is he idle? Glo. Oh my faire Cousin, I must not say so
Yorke. Then he is more beholding to you, then I
Glo. He may command me as my Soueraigne, But you haue power in me, as in a Kinsman
Yorke. I pray you, Vnckle, giue me this Dagger
Glo. My Dagger, little Cousin? with all my heart
Prince. A Begger, Brother? Yorke. Of my kind Vnckle, that I know will giue, And being but a Toy, which is no griefe to giue
Glo. A greater gift then that, Ile giue my Cousin
Yorke. A greater gift? O, that's the Sword to it
Glo. I, gentle Cousin, were it light enough
Yorke. O then I see, you will part but with light gifts, In weightier things you'le say a Begger nay
Glo. It is too weightie for your Grace to weare
Yorke. I weigh it lightly, were it heauier
Glo. What, would you haue my Weapon, little Lord? Yorke. I would that I might thanke you, as, as, you call me
Glo. How? Yorke. Little
Prince. My Lord of Yorke will still be crosse in talke: Vnckle, your Grace knowes how to beare with him
Yorke. You meane to beare me, not to beare with me: Vnckle, my Brother mockes both you and me, Because that I am little, like an Ape, He thinkes that you should beare me on your shoulders
Buck. With what a sharpe prouided wit he reasons: To mittigate the scorne he giues his Vnckle, He prettily and aptly taunts himselfe: So cunning, and so young, is wonderfull
Glo. My Lord, wilt please you passe along? My selfe, and my good Cousin Buckingham, Will to your Mother, to entreat of her To meet you at the Tower, and welcome you
Yorke. what, will you goe vnto the Tower, my Lord? Prince. My Lord Protector will haue it so
Yorke. I shall not sleepe in quiet at the Tower
Glo. Why, what should you feare? Yorke. Marry, my Vnckle Clarence angry Ghost: My Grandam told me he was murther'd there
Prince. I feare no Vnckles dead
Glo. Nor none that liue, I hope
Prince. And if they liue, I hope I need not feare. But come my Lord: and with a heauie heart, Thinking on them, goe I vnto the Tower.
A Senet. Exeunt Prince, Yorke, Hastings, and Dorset.
Manet Richard, Buckingham, and Catesby.
Buck. Thinke you, my Lord, this little prating Yorke Was not incensed by his subtile Mother, To taunt and scorne you thus opprobriously? Glo. No doubt, no doubt: Oh 'tis a perillous Boy, Bold, quicke, ingenious, forward, capable: Hee is all the Mothers, from the top to toe
Buck. Well, let them rest: Come hither Catesby, Thou art sworne as deepely to effect what we intend, As closely to conceale what we impart: Thou know'st our reasons vrg'd vpon the way. What think'st thou? is it not an easie matter, To make William Lord Hastings of our minde, For the installment of this Noble Duke In the Seat Royall of this famous Ile? Cates. He for his fathers sake so loues the Prince, That he will not be wonne to ought against him
Buck. What think'st thou then of Stanley? Will not hee? Cates. Hee will doe all in all as Hastings doth
Buck. Well then, no more but this: Goe gentle Catesby, and as it were farre off, Sound thou Lord Hastings, How he doth stand affected to our purpose, And summon him to morrow to the Tower, To sit about the Coronation. If thou do'st finde him tractable to vs, Encourage him, and tell him all our reasons: If he be leaden, ycie, cold, vnwilling, Be thou so too, and so breake off the talke, And giue vs notice of his inclination: For we to morrow hold diuided Councels, Wherein thy selfe shalt highly be employ'd
Rich. Commend me to Lord William: tell him Catesby, His ancient Knot of dangerous Aduersaries To morrow are let blood at Pomfret Castle, And bid my Lord, for ioy of this good newes, Giue Mistresse Shore one gentle Kisse the more
Buck. Good Catesby, goe effect this businesse soundly
Cates. My good Lords both, with all the heed I can
Rich. Shall we heare from you, Catesby, ere we sleepe? Cates. You shall, my Lord
Rich. At Crosby House, there shall you find vs both.
Exit Catesby.
Buck. Now, my Lord, What shall wee doe, if wee perceiue Lord Hastings will not yeeld to our Complots? Rich. Chop off his Head: Something wee will determine: And looke when I am King, clayme thou of me The Earledome of Hereford, and all the moueables Whereof the King, my Brother, was possest
Buck. Ile clayme that promise at your Graces hand
Rich. And looke to haue it yeelded with all kindnesse. Come, let vs suppe betimes, that afterwards Wee may digest our complots in some forme.
Exeunt.
Scena Secunda.
Enter a Messenger to the Doore of Hastings.
Mess. My Lord, my Lord
Hast. Who knockes? Mess. One from the Lord Stanley
Hast. What is't a Clocke? Mess. Vpon the stroke of foure. Enter Lord Hastings.
Hast. Cannot my Lord Stanley sleepe these tedious Nights? Mess. So it appeares, by that I haue to say: First, he commends him to your Noble selfe
Hast. What then? Mess. Then certifies your Lordship, that this Night He dreamt, the Bore had rased off his Helme: Besides, he sayes there are two Councels kept; And that may be determin'd at the one, Which may make you and him to rue at th' other. Therefore he sends to know your Lordships pleasure, If you will presently take Horse with him, And with all speed post with him toward the North, To shun the danger that his Soule diuines
Hast. Goe fellow, goe, returne vnto thy Lord, Bid him not feare the seperated Councell: His Honor and my selfe are at the one, And at the other, is my good friend Catesby; Where nothing can proceede, that toucheth vs, Whereof I shall not haue intelligence: Tell him his Feares are shallow, without instance. And for his Dreames, I wonder hee's so simple, To trust the mock'ry of vnquiet slumbers. To flye the Bore, before the Bore pursues, Were to incense the Bore to follow vs, And make pursuit, where he did meane no chase. Goe, bid thy Master rise, and come to me, And we will both together to the Tower, Where he shall see the Bore will vse vs kindly
Mess. Ile goe, my Lord, and tell him what you say. Enter.
Enter Catesby.
Cates. Many good morrowes to my Noble Lord
Hast. Good morrow Catesby, you are early stirring: What newes, what newes, in this our tott'ring State? Cates. It is a reeling World indeed, my Lord: And I beleeue will neuer stand vpright, Till Richard weare the Garland of the Realme