་ SCENE II. Changes to the court. Flourish of trumpets. Enter Gloucester as king, Buckingham, Catesby. K. RICH. Stand all apart.-Coufin of Buckingham, K. RICH. Give me thy hand. Thus high, by thy advice, Or fhall they laft, and we rejoice in them? BUCK. Still live they, and for ever let them reft! Young Edward lives-think now, what I would speak. K. RICH. Why, Buckingham, I fay, I would be king. K. RICH. O bitter confequence! That Edward still should live-true, noble prince? -Shall I be plain? I wifh the bastards dead; And I would have it fuddenly perform'd. What fay'st thou now? Speak fuddenly, be brief. Buck. Your grace may do your pleasure. K. RICH. Tut, tut, thou art all ice, thy kindnefs freezes: Say, have I thy consent that they shall die? BUCK. Give me fome breath, fome little paufe, dear Before I pofitively speak in this; I will refolve your grace immediately. [lor [Exit Buc CATES. The king is angry; fee, he gnaws his lip. K. RICH. I will converfe with iron-witted fools, That look into me with confiderate eyes. PAGE. My lord. K. RICH. Know'st thou not any, whom corrupting gold Would tempt unto a clofe exploit of death? PAGE. I know a difcontented gentleman, Whose humble means match not his haughty fpirit; And will, no doubt, tempt him to any thing. K. RICH. What is his name? PAGE. His name, my lord, is Tirrel. K. RICH. I partly know the man; go call him hither. -The deep-revolving, witty Buckingham No more fhall be the neighbour to my counfels. And stops he now for breath ?well, be it fo. Enter Stanley. How now, Lord Stanley, what's the news? STAN. My lord, The marquis Dorfet, as I hear, is fled To Richmond, in the parts where he abides, [Exit Boy. K. KICH. Come hither, Catesby; rumour is abroad, I will take order for her keeping close. Look, how thou dream'st-I say again, give out, That Anne, my queen, is fick, and like to die. To stop all hopes, whofe growth may damage me. I must be married to my brother's daughter, Tear-falling pity dwells not in this eye. [Exit Catesby. TIR. James Tirrel, and your most obedient subject. K. RICH, Art thou indeed? TIR. Prove me, my gracious lord, [He takes him aside. [He kneels. K. RICH. Dar'ft thou resolve to kill a friend of mine? TIR. Please you, I'd rather kill two enemies. K. RICH. Why then thou haft it; two deep enemies, Foes to my rest, and my sweet sleep's disturbers, Tirrel, I mean those bastards in the tower. TIR. Let me have open means to come to them, And foon I'll rid you from the fear of them. K. RICH. Thou fing'st sweet mufick.-Hark, come hi ther, Tirrel. Go, by this token-rise, and lend thine ear There is no more but fo-say, it is done, TIR. I will dispatch it strait. Re-enter Buckingham. Buck. My lord, I have confider'd in my mind That late demand, that you did sound me in. [Whispers. [Exit. K. RICH. Well, let that reft. Dorfet is fled to Richmond. K. RICH. Stanley, he is your wife's fon. Well, look Buck. My lord, I claim the gift, my due by promise, For which your honour, and your faith is pawn'd; Th'earldom of Hereford, and the moveables, Which you have promised, I should possess. K. RICH. Stanley, look to your wife; if she convey Letters to Richmond, you shall answer it. Buck. What says your highness to my just request ? Buck. My lord? K. RICH. How chance, the prophet could not at that time Have told me, I being by, that I should kill him? Buck. My lord, your promife for the earldom- I fhould not live long after I faw Richmond. K. RICH. Ay, what's o'clock? Buck. I am thus bold to put your grace in mind K. RICH. But what's o'clock ? BUCK. Why, let it strike? K. RICH. Because, that, like a Jack, thou keep'ft the Betwixt thy begging and my meditation. I am not in the giving vein to-day. [stroke Buck. Why, then resolve me whether you will, or no. K. RICH. Thou troublest me, I am not in the vein. BUCK. Is it ev'n fo? repays he my deep fervice With fuch contempt ? made I him king for this? O, let me think on Hastings, and be gone {Exit. To Brecknock, while my fearful head is on. [Exit. SCENE III. Enter Tirrel. TIR. The tyrrannous and bloody act is done; The most arch deed of piteous maffacre, That ever yet this land was guilty of! Their lips were four red roses on a stock, Which once, (quoth Forrest) almost chang'd my mind, |