Cate. The king is angry; see, he gnaws his lip." [Aside. K. Rich. I will converse with iron-witted fools, [Descends from his Throne. And unrespective boys; none are for me, That look into me with considerate eyes;— High-reaching Buckingham grows circumspect.Boy, Page. My lord. K. Rich. Know'st thou not any, whom corrupting gold Would tempt unto a close exploit' of death? Whose humble means match not his haughty mind: And will, no doubt, tempt him to any thing. K. Rich. What is his name? Page. His name, my lord, is-Tyrrel. K. Rich. I partly know the man; Go, call him hither, boy.[Exit Page. The deep-revolving witty Buckingham No more shall be the neighbour to my counsels: And stops he now for breath?-well, be it so. Enter STANley. How now, lord Stanley? what's the news? Stan. Know, my loving lord, see, he gnaws his lip.] Several of our ancient historians observe, that this was an accustomed action of Richard, whether he was pensive or angry. 8 And unrespective boys;] Unrespective is inattentive to consequences, inconsiderate. close exploit-] Is secret act. — witty-] In this place signifies judicious or cunning. A wit was not at this time employed to signify a man of fancy, but was used for wisdom or judgment. The marquis Dorset, as I hear, is fled K. Rich. Come hither, Catesby: rumour it abroad, To stop all hopes, whose growth may damage me.— Re-enter Page, with TYRREL. Is thy name-Tyrrel? Tyr. James Tyrrel, and your most obedient sub ject. K. Rich. Art thou, indeed? Tyr. Prove me, my gracious lord. K. Rich. Dar'st thou resolve to kill a friend of mine? Tyr. Please you; but I had rather kill two enemies. K. Rich. Why, then thou hast it; two deep enemies, Foes to my rest, and my sweet sleep's disturbers, 2 I will take order for her keeping close.] i. e. I will take measures that shall oblige her to keep close. 3 it stands me much upon,] i. e. it is of the utmost consequence to my designs. Are they that I would have thee deal upon:* Tyr. Let me have open means to come to them, And soon I'll rid you from the fear of them. K. Rich. Thou sing'st sweet musick. Hark, come hither, Tyrrel; Go, by this token:-Rise, and lend thine ear: [Whispers. There is no more but so:-Say, it is done, Re-enter BUCKINGHAM. Buch. My lord, I have consider'd in my [Exit. mind The late demand that you did sound me in. Buck. I hear the news, my lord. K. Rich. Stanley, he is your wife's son:-Well, look to it. Buck. My lord, I claim the gift, my due by promise, For which your honour and your faith is pawn'd; 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? K. Rich. I do remember me,-Henry the sixth Did prophecy, that Richmond should be king, When Richmond was a little peevish boy. A king!-perhaps Buck. My lord, deal upon :] i. e. act upon. We should now say-deal with; but the other was the phraseology of our author's time. K. Rich. How chance, the prophet could not at that time, Have told me, I being by, that I should kill him? I should not live long after I saw Richmond. K. Rich. Buck. Ay, what's o'clock? I am thus bold To put your grace in mind of what you promis'd me. K. Rich. Well, but what is't o'clock? Buck. Of ten. K. Rich. Well, let it strike." Buck. Upon the stroke Why, let it strike? K. Rich. Because that, like a Jack," thou keep'st the stroke Betwixt thy begging and my meditation. I am not in the giving vein to-day. Buck. Why, then resolve me whe'r you will, or no. K. Rich. Thou troublest me; I am not in the vein. [Exeunt King RICHARD and Train. Buck. And is it thus? repays he my deep service With such contempt? made I him king for this? O, let me think on Hastings; and be gone To Brecknock,' while my fearful head is on. [Exit. 5 Well, let it strike.] This seems to have been a proverbial sentence. Because that, like a Jack,-] An image, like those at St. Dunstan's church in Fleet Street, and at the market houses at several towns in this kingdom, was usually called a Jack of the clock-house. 7 To Brecknock,] To the Castle of Brecknock in Wales, where the Duke of Buckingham's estate lay. SCENE III. The same. Enter TYRRel. Tyr. The tyrannous and bloody act is done; Their lips were four red roses on a stalk, Which once, quoth Forrest, almost chang'd my mind; Enter King Richard. And here he comes:-All health, my sovereign lord! K. Rich. Kind Tyrrel! am I happy in thy news? Tyr. If to have done the thing you gave in charge Beget your happiness, be happy then, For it is done. |