Hast. My lord, I hold my life as dear as yours; And never, in my life, 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'er-cast.
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's away.

Enter a Pursuivant.

Hast. Go on before, I'll talk with this good
fellow.
[Exeunt Stan. and Catesby.
How now, sirrah? how goes the world with thee?
Purs. The better, that your lordship please to ask.
Hast. I tell thee, man, 'tis better with me now,
Than when thou met'st me last, where now we meet:
Then was I going prisoner to the Tower,
By the suggestion of the queen's allies;
But now, I tell thee, (keep it to thyself,)
This day those enemies are put to death,
And I in better state than ere I was.

Purs. God hold it, to your honour's good content!
Hast. Gramercy, fellow: There, drink that for me.
[Throwing him his purse.
Purs. I thank your honour. [Exit Pursuivant.
Enter a Priest.

Priest. Well met, my lord; I am glad to see
your honour.

Hast. I thank thee, good sir John, with all my heart.
I am in your debt for your last exercise;
Come the next Sabbath, and I will content you.
Enter BUCKINGHAM.

Buck. What, talking with a priest, lord cham-
berlain?

Your friends at Pomfret, they do need the priest;
Your honour hath no shriving work in hand.
Hast. 'Good faith, and when I met this holy man,
The men you talk'd of came into my mind.
What, go you toward the Tower?

Buck. I do, my lord; but long I cannot stay there:
I shall return before your lordship thence.

not.

Hast. Nay, like enough, for I stay dinner there.
Buck. And supper too, although thou know'st it
[Aside.
Hast. I'll wait upon your lordship. [Exeunt.

Come, will you go?

SCENE III.

Pomfret. Before the Castle.

Enter RATCLIFF, with a Guard, conducting RI-
VERS, GREY, and VAUGHAN to execution.

> Rat. Come, bring forth the prisoners.

Riv. Sir Richard Ratcliff, let me tell thee this,To-day shalt thou behold a subject die, For truth, for duty, and for loyalty.

Grey. God keep the prince from all the pack of you! A knot you are of damned blood-suckers.

Vaug. You live, that shall cry woe for this hereafter. Rat. Despatch; the limit of your lives is out. Riv. O Pomfret, Pomfret! O thou bloody prison, Fatal and ominous to noble peers! Within the guilty closure of thy walls Richard the second here was hack'd to death: And, for more slander to thy dismal seat, We give thee up our guiltless blood to drink. Grey. Now Margaret's curse is fallen upon our heads,

When she exclaim'd on Hastings, you, and I,
For standing by, when Richard stabb'd her son.
Riv. Then curs'd she Hastings, then curs'd she
Buckingham,

Then curs'd she Richard:-0, remember, God,
To hear her prayers for them, as now for us!
And for my sister, and her princely sons,
Be satisfied, dear God, with our true bloods,
Which, as thou know'st, unjustly must be spilt!
Rat. Make haste, the hour of death is expiate.
Riv. Come, Grey,-come, Vaughan,-let us here
embrace:

Farewell, until we meet again in heaven. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

London. A room in the Tower. BUCKINGHAM, STANLEY, HASTINGS, the Bishop of ELY, CATESBY, 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. Are all things ready for that royal time?
Stan. They are; and wants but nomination.
Ely. To-morrow then I judge a happy day.
Buck. 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 lord, may name the time;
And in the duke's behalf I'll give my voice,
Which, I presume, he'll take in gentle part.

Enter GLOSTER.

Ely. In happy time, here comes the duke himself.
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. Marry, and will, my lord, with all my heart.
[Eait Ely.

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Gle. Cousin of Buckingham, a word with you.
[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 yourself awhile, I'll go with
you. [Exeunt Gloster and 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.

Re-enter the Bishop of ELY.

Ely. Where is my lord protector? I have sent For these strawberries.

Hast. His grace looks cheerfully and smooth this
morning;

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 is 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 damned 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 the 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 witcheraft thus have marked me.
Hast.If they have done this deed,my noble lord,
Glo. If! thou protector of this damned 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 Catesby, look, that it be done;
The rest, that love me, rise, and follow me.

[Exeunt Council, with Glo. and Buck,
Hast. Woe, woe, for England! not a whit for me;
For I, too fond, might have prevented this:
Stanley did dream, the boar did rase his helm ;
But I disdain'd it, and did scorn to fly.

Three times to-day my foot-cloth horse did stumble,
And startled, when he look'd upon the Tower,
As loath to bear me to the slaughter-house.
O, now I want 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.
O, Margaret, Margaret, now thy heavy curse
Is lighted on poor Hastings' wretched head.
Cate. Despatch, 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, despatch; 'tis bootless to exclaim.
Hast. O, bloody Richard!miserable England!
I prophesy the fearful'st time to thee,
That ever wretched age hath look'd upon.-
Come, lead me to the block, bear him my head;
They smile at me, who shortly shall be dead.
[Exeunt.

SCENE V.

The same. The Tower walls.

Enter GLOSTER and BUCKINGHAM, in rusty armour, marvellous ill-favoured.

Glo. Come, cousin, canst thou quake, and change thy colour?

Murder thy breath in middle of a word,

And then again begin, and stop again,

As if thou wert distraught, and mad with terror?

Buck. Tut, I can counterfeit the deep tragedian; Speak, and look back, and pry on every side,

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