Chapter 116

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

Hast. How weare the Garland? Doest thou meane the Crowne? Cates. I, my good Lord

Hast. Ile haue this Crown of mine cut fro[m] my shoulders, Before Ile see the Crowne so foule mis-plac'd: But canst thou guesse, that he doth ayme at it? Cates. I, on my life, and hopes to find you forward, Vpon his partie, for the gaine thereof: And thereupon he sends you this good newes, That this same very day your enemies, The Kindred of the Queene, must dye at Pomfret

Hast. Indeed I am no mourner for that newes, Because they haue beene still my aduersaries: But, that Ile giue my voice on Richards side, To barre my Masters Heires in true Descent, God knowes I will not doe it, to the death

Cates. God keepe your Lordship in that gracious minde

Hast. But I shall laugh at this a twelue-month hence, That they which brought me in my Masters hate, I liue to looke vpon their Tragedie. Well Catesby, ere a fort-night make me older, Ile send some packing, that yet thinke not on't

Cates. 'Tis a vile thing to dye, my gracious Lord, When men are vnprepar'd, and looke not for it

Hast. O monstrous, monstrous! and so falls it out With Riuers, Vaughan, Grey: and so 'twill doe With some men else, that thinke themselues as safe As thou and I, who (as thou know'st) are deare To Princely Richard, and to Buckingham

Cates. The Princes both make high account of you, For they account his Head vpon the Bridge

Hast. I know they doe, and I haue well deseru'd it. Enter Lord Stanley.

Come on, come on, where is your Bore-speare man? Feare you the Bore, and goe so vnprouided? Stan. My Lord good morrow, good morrow Catesby: You may ieast on, but by the holy Rood, I doe not like these seuerall Councels, I

Hast. My Lord, I hold my Life as deare as yours, And neuer in my dayes, I doe protest, Was it so precious to me, as 'tis now: Thinke you, but that I know our state secure, I would be so triumphant as I am? Sta. The Lords at Pomfret, whe[n] they rode from London, Were iocund, and suppos'd their states were sure, And they indeed had no cause to mistrust: But yet you see, how soone the Day o're-cast. This sudden stab of Rancour I misdoubt: Pray God (I say) I proue a needlesse Coward. What, shall we toward the Tower? the day is spent

Hast. Come, come, haue with you: Wot you what, my Lord, To day the Lords you talke of, are beheaded

Sta. They, for their truth, might better wear their Heads, Then some that haue accus'd them, weare their Hats. But come, my Lord, let's away. Enter a Pursuiuant.

Hast. Goe on before, Ile talke with this good fellow.

Exit Lord Stanley, and Catesby.

How now, Sirrha? how goes the World with thee? Purs. The better, that your Lordship please to aske

Hast. I tell thee man, 'tis better with me now, Then when thou met'st me last, where now we meet: Then was I going Prisoner to the Tower, By the suggestion of the Queenes Allyes. But now I tell thee (keepe it to thy selfe) This day those Enemies are put to death, And I in better state then ere I was

Purs. God hold it, to your Honors good content

Hast. Gramercie fellow: there, drinke that for me.

Throwes him his Purse.

Purs. I thanke your Honor.

Exit Pursuiuant.

Enter a Priest.

Priest. Well met, my Lord, I am glad to see your Honor

Hast. I thanke thee, good Sir Iohn, with all my heart. I am in your debt, for your last Exercise: Come the next Sabboth, and I will content you

Priest. Ile wait vpon your Lordship. Enter Buckingham.

Buc. What, talking with a Priest, Lord Chamberlaine? Your friends at Pomfret, they doe need the Priest, Your Honor hath no shriuing worke in hand

Hast. Good faith, and when I met this holy man, The men you talke of, came into my minde. What, goe you toward the Tower? Buc. I doe, my Lord, but long I cannot stay there: I shall returne before your Lordship, thence

Hast. Nay like enough, for I stay Dinner there

Buc. And Supper too, although thou know'st it not. Come, will you goe? Hast. Ile wait vpon your Lordship.

Exeunt.

Scena Tertia.

Enter Sir Richard Ratcliffe, with Halberds, carrying the Nobles to death at Pomfret.

Riuers. Sir Richard Ratcliffe, let me tell thee this, To day shalt thou behold a Subiect die, For Truth, for Dutie, and for Loyaltie

Grey. God blesse the Prince from all the Pack of you, A Knot you are, of damned Blood-suckers

Vaugh. You liue, that shall cry woe for this heereafter

Rat. Dispatch, the limit of your Liues is out

Riuers. O Pomfret, Pomfret! O thou bloody Prison! Fatall and ominous to Noble Peeres: Within the guiltie Closure of thy Walls, Richard the Second here was hackt to death: And for more slander to thy dismall Seat, Wee giue to thee our guiltlesse blood to drinke

Grey. Now Margarets Curse is falne vpon our Heads, When shee exclaim'd on Hastings, you, and I, For standing by, when Richard stab'd her Sonne

Riuers. Then curs'd shee Richard, Then curs'd shee Buckingham, Then curs'd shee Hastings. Oh remember God, To heare her prayer for them, as now for vs: And for my Sister, and her Princely Sonnes, Be satisfy'd, deare God, with our true blood, Which, as thou know'st, vniustly must be spilt

Rat. Make haste, the houre of death is expiate

Riuers. Come Grey, come Vaughan, let vs here embrace. Farewell, vntill we meet againe in Heauen.

Exeunt.

Scaena Quarta.

Enter Buckingham, Darby, Hastings, Bishop of Ely, Norfolke, Ratcliffe, Louell, with others, at a Table.

Hast. Now Noble Peeres, the cause why we are met, Is to determine of the Coronation: In Gods Name speake, when is the Royall day? Buck. Is all things ready for the Royall time? Darb. It is, and wants but nomination

Ely. To morrow then I iudge a happie day

Buck. Who knowes the Lord Protectors mind herein? Who is most inward with the Noble Duke? Ely. Your Grace, we thinke, should soonest know his minde

Buck. We know each others Faces: for our Hearts, He knowes no more of mine, then I of yours, Or I of his, my Lord, then you of mine: Lord Hastings, you and he are neere in loue

Hast. I thanke his Grace, I know he loues me well: But for his purpose in the Coronation, I haue not sounded him, nor he deliuer'd His gracious pleasure any way therein: But you, my Honorable Lords, may name the time, And in the Dukes behalfe Ile giue my Voice, Which I presume hee'le take in gentle part. Enter Gloucester.

Ely. In happie time, here comes the Duke himselfe

Rich. My Noble Lords, and Cousins all, good morrow: I haue beene long a sleeper: but I trust, My absence doth neglect no great designe, Which by my presence might haue beene concluded

Buck. Had you not come vpon your Q my Lord, William, Lord Hastings, had pronounc'd your part; I meane your Voice, for Crowning of the King

Rich. Then my Lord Hastings, no man might be bolder, His Lordship knowes me well, and loues me well. My Lord of Ely, when I was last in Holborne, I saw good Strawberries in your Garden there, I doe beseech you, send for some of them

Ely. Mary and will, my Lord, with all my heart.

Exit Bishop.

Rich. Cousin of Buckingham, a word with you. Catesby hath sounded Hastings in our businesse, And findes the testie Gentleman so hot, That he will lose his Head, ere giue consent His Masters Child, as worshipfully he tearmes it, Shall lose the Royaltie of Englands Throne

Buck. Withdraw your selfe a while, Ile goe with you.

Exeunt.

Darb. We haue not yet set downe this day of Triumph: To morrow, in my iudgement, is too sudden, For I my selfe am not so well prouided, As else I would be, were the day prolong'd. Enter the Bishop of Ely.

Ely. Where is my Lord, the Duke of Gloster? I haue sent for these Strawberries

Ha. His Grace looks chearfully & smooth this morning, There's some conceit or other likes him well, When that he bids good morrow with such spirit. I thinke there's neuer a man in Christendome Can lesser hide his loue, or hate, then hee, For by his Face straight shall you know his Heart

Darb. What of his Heart perceiue you in his Face, By any liuelyhood he shew'd to day? Hast. Mary, that with no man here he is offended: For were he, he had shewne it in his Lookes. Enter Richard, and Buckingham.

Rich. I pray you all, tell me what they deserue, That doe conspire my death with diuellish Plots Of damned Witchcraft, and that haue preuail'd Vpon my Body with their Hellish Charmes

Hast. The tender loue I beare your Grace, my Lord, Makes me most forward, in this Princely presence, To doome th' Offendors, whosoe're they be: I say, my Lord, they haue deserued death

Rich. Then be your eyes the witnesse of their euill. Looke how I am bewitch'd: behold, mine Arme Is like a blasted Sapling, wither'd vp: And this is Edwards Wife, that monstrous Witch, Consorted with that Harlot, Strumpet Shore, That by their Witchcraft thus haue marked me

Hast. If they haue done this deed, my Noble Lord

Rich. If? thou Protector of this damned Strumpet, Talk'st thou to me of Ifs: thou art a Traytor, Off with his Head; now by Saint Paul I sweare, I will not dine, vntill I see the same. Louell and Ratcliffe, looke that it be done:

Exeunt.

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

Manet Louell and Ratcliffe, with the Lord Hastings.

Hast. Woe, woe for England, not a whit for me, For I, too fond, might haue preuented this: Stanley did dreame, the Bore did rowse our Helmes, And I did scorne it, and disdaine to flye: Three times to day my Foot-Cloth-Horse did stumble, And started, when he look'd vpon the Tower, As loth to beare me to the slaughter-house. O now I need the Priest, that spake to me: I now repent I told the Pursuiuant, As too triumphing, how mine Enemies To day at Pomfret bloodily were butcher'd, And I my selfe secure, in grace and fauour. Oh Margaret, Margaret, now thy heauie Curse Is lighted on poore Hastings wretched Head

Ra. Come, come, dispatch, the Duke would be at dinner: Make a short Shrift, he longs to see your Head

Hast. O momentarie grace of mortall men, Which we more hunt for, then the grace of God! Who builds his hope in ayre of your good Lookes, Liues like a drunken Sayler on a Mast, Readie with euery Nod to tumble downe, Into the fatall Bowels of the Deepe

Lou. Come, come, dispatch, 'tis bootlesse to exclaime

Hast. O bloody Richard: miserable England, I prophecie the fearefull'st time to thee, That euer wretched Age hath look'd vpon. Come, lead me to the Block, beare him my Head, They smile at me, who shortly shall be dead.

Exeunt.

Enter Richard, and Buckingham, in rotten Armour, maruellous ill-fauoured.

Richard. Come Cousin, Canst thou quake, and change thy colour, Murther thy breath in middle of a word, And then againe begin, and stop againe, As if thou were distraught, and mad with terror? Buck. Tut, I can counterfeit the deepe Tragedian, Speake, and looke backe, and prie on euery side, Tremble and start at wagging of a Straw: Intending deepe suspition, gastly Lookes Are at my seruice, like enforced Smiles; And both are readie in their Offices, At any time to grace my Stratagemes. But what, is Catesby gone? Rich. He is, and see he brings the Maior along. Enter the Maior, and Catesby.

Buck. Lord Maior