The Plays of Shakespeare

1 Murd. So do not I: go, coward, as thou art.— Well, I'll go hide the body in some hole, Till that the duke give order for his burial:

And when I have my meed, I will away; For this will out, and then I must not stay.

[Exit.

SCENE I.-London. A Room in the Palace.

ACT II.

K. Edw. Why, so :-now have I done a good day's work.

You peers, continue this united league :
I every day expect an embassage

From my Redeemer to redeem me hence;
And more at peace my soul shall part to heaven,
Since I have made my friends at peace on earth.
Rivers, and Hastings, take each other's hand;
Dissemble not your hatred, swear your love.

Riv. By heaven, my soul is purg'd from grudging hate;

And with my hand I seal my true heart's love.

Hast. So thrive I, as I truly swear the like. K. Edw. Take heed, you dally not before your king; Lest he, that is the supreme king of kings, Confound your hidden falsehood, and award Either of you to be the other's end.

Hast. So prosper I, as I swear perfect love. Riv. And I, as I love Hastings with my heart. K. Edw. Madam, yourself are not exempt from this, Nor you, son Dorset,-Buckingham, nor you;— You have been factious one against the other. Wife, love lord Hastings, let him kiss your hand; And what you do, do it unfeignedly.

Q. Eliz. There, Hastings:-I will never more remember

Our former hatred, so thrive I, and mine.

K. Edw. Dorset, embrace him ;-Hastings, love lord

K. Edw. Now, princely Buckingham, seal thou this league

With thy embracements to my wife's allies,
And make me happy in your unity.

Buck. Whenever Buckingham doth turn his hate Upon your grace, [To the Queen.] but with all duteous love

Doth cherish you, and yours, God punish me
With hate in those where I expect most love.
When I have most need to employ a friend,
And most assured that he is a friend,
Deep, hollow, treacherous, and full of guile,
Be he unto me. This do I beg of heaven,
When I am cold in love to you, or yours.

K. Edw. A pleasing cordial, princely Buckingham,
Is this thy vow unto my sickly heart.
There wanteth now our brother Gloster here,
To make the blessed period of this peace.

Buck. And, in good time, here comes the noble duke. Enter GLOSTER.

Glo. Good-morrow to my sovereign king, and queen. And, princely peers, a happy time of day!

K. Edw. Happy, indeed, as we have spent the day. Gloster, we have done deeds of charity; Made peace of enmity, fair love of hate,

Between these swelling wrong-incensed peers.
Glo. A blessed labour, my most sovereign lord.-
Among this princely heap, if any here,
By false intelligence, or wrong surmise,
Hold me a foe;

If I unwittingly, or in my rage,

Have aught committed that is hardly borne
To any in this presence, I desire

To reconcile me to his friendly peace:
"Tis death to me, to be at enmity;

I hate it, and desire all good men's love.-
First, madam, I entreat true peace of you,
Which I will purchase with my duteous service;
Of you, my noble cousin Buckingham,

If ever any grudge were lodg'd between us;
Of you, and you, lord Rivers, and of Dorset,
That all without desert have frown'd on me;
Of you, lord Woodville, and lord Scales, of you;
Dukes, earls, lords, gentlemen; indeed, of all.
I do not know that Englishman alive,
With whom my soul is any jot at odds,
More than the infant that is born to-night.
I thank my God for my humility.

[Aside.

Q. Eliz. A holy day shall this be kept hereafter:

I would to God, all strifes were well compounded.-
My sovereign lord, I do beseech your highness
To take our brother Clarence to your grace.

Glo. Why, madam, have I offer'd love for this,
To be so flouted in this royal presence?
Who knows not, that the gentle duke is dead?

[They all start.

You do him injury to scorn his corse.
K. Edw. Who knows not, he is dead! who knows
he is?

Q. Eliz. All-seeing heaven, what a world is this!
Buck. Look I so pale, lord Dorset, as the rest?
Dor. Ay, my good lord; and no man in the pre-

Stan. A boon, my sovereign, for my service done! [Kneels.

K. Edw. I pr'ythee, peace: my soul is full of sorrow. Stan. I will not rise, unless your highness hear me. K. Edw. Then say at once, what is it thou requestest.

Stan. The forfeit, sovereign, of my servant's life; Who slew to-day a riotous gentleman, Lately attendant on the duke of Norfolk.

K. Edw. Have I a tongue to doom my brother's death, And shall that tongue give pardon to a slave? 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 at my feet, and bade me be advis'd?
Who spoke of brotherhood? who spoke of love?
Who told me, how the poor soul did forsake
The mighty Warwick, and did fight for me?
Who told me, in the field at Tewksbury,
When Oxford had me down, he rescu'd me,
And said, "Dear brother, live, and be a king?"
Who told me, when we both lay in the field,
Frozen almost to death, how he did lap me
Even in his garments; and did give himself,
All thin and naked, to the numb-cold night?
All this from my remembrance brutish wrath
Sinfully pluck'd, and not a man of you
Had so much grace to put it in my mind.
But when your carters, or your waiting-vassals,
Have done a drunken slaughter, and defac'd
The precious image of our dear Redeemer,

You straight are on your knees for pardon, pardon;
And I, unjustly too, must grant it you.
But for my brother not a man would speak,
Nor I, ungracious, speak unto myself

For him, poor soul. The proudest of you all
Have been beholding to him in his life,
Yet none of you would once beg for his life.-
O God! I fear, thy justice will take hold
On me, and you, and mine, and yours, for this.-
Come, Hastings, prithee help me to my closet.
Ah, poor Clarence !

[Exeunt King, Queen, HASTINGS, RIVERS, DORSET, and GREY.

Glo. This is the fruit of rashness.—Mark'd you not, How that the guilty kindred of the queen Look'd pale, when they did hear of Clarence' death? O! they did urge it still unto the king: God will revenge it. Come, lords; will you go, To comfort Edward with our company? Buck. We wait upon your grace.

SCENE II.-London.

[Exeunt.

Enter the Duchess of YORK, with a Son and Daughter of CLARENCE.

Son. Good grandam, tell us, is our father dead?
Duch. No, boy.

Daugh. Why do you weep so? and oft beat your breast;

And cry-" O Clarence, my unhappy son!"

Son. Why do you look on us, and shake your head, And call us-orphans, wretches, cast-aways, If that our noble father were alive?

Duch. My pretty cousins, you mistake me both,
I do lament the sickness of the king,

As loath to lose him, not your father's death.
It were lost sorrow to wail one that's lost.

Son. Then you conclude, my grandam, he is dead.

The king mine uncle is to blame for it:

God will revenge it; whom I will importune
With earnest prayers all to that effect.
Daugh. And so will I.

Duch. Ah! that deceit should steal such gentle shape, And with a virtuous visor hide deep vice! He is my son, ay, and therein my shame, Yet from my dugs he drew not this deceit.

Son. Think you, my uncle did dissemble, grandam? Duch. Ay, boy.

Son. I cannot think it.-Hark! what noise is this! Enter Queen ELIZABETH, distractedly; RIVERS and DORSET, following her.

Q. Eliz. Ah! who shall hinder me to wail and weep, To chide my fortune, and torment myself? I'll join with black despair against my soul, And to myself become an enemy.

Duch. What means this scene of rude impatience? Q. Eliz. To make an act of tragic violence. Edward, my lord, thy son, our king, is dead!Why grow the branches, when the root is gone? Why wither not the leaves, that want their sap?— If you will live, lament; if die, be brief; That our swift-winged souls may catch the king's; Or, like obedient subjects, follow him

To his new kingdom of ne'er changing light.

Duch. Ah! so much interest have I in thy sorrow, As I had title in thy noble husband.

I have bewept a worthy husband's death,
And liv'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 have but one false glass,
That grieves me when I see my shame in him.
Thou art a widow; yet thou art a mother,
And hast the comfort of thy children left:

But death hath snatch'd my husband from mine arms,
And pluck'd two crutches from my feeble hands,
Clarence, and Edward. O! what cause have I,
(Thine being but a moiety of my moan)
To over-go thy woes, and drown thy cries?

Son. Ah, aunt! you wept not for our father's death;
How can we aid you with our kindred tears?
Your widow-dolour likewise be unwept.
Daugh. Our fatherless distress was left unmoan'd;

Q. Eliz. Give me no help in lamentation;

I am not barren to bring forth complaints.
All springs reduce their currents to mine eyes,
That I, being govern'd by the watry moon,
May send forth plenteous tears to drown the world!
Ah, for my husband, for my dear lord, Edward!

Chil. Ah, for our father, for our dear lord Clarence!
Duch. Alas, for both! both mine, Edward and Cla-

rence.

Q. Eliz. What stay had I, but Edward? and he's gone.
Chil. What stay had we, but Clarence? and he's gone.
Duch. What stays had I, but they? and they are gone.
Q. Eliz. Was never widow had so dear a loss.
Chil. Were never orphans had so dear a loss.
Duch. Was never mother had so dear a loss.
Alas! I am the mother of these griefs:
Their woes are parcell'd, mine are general.
She for an Edward weeps, and so do I;

Duch. Peace, children, peace! the king doth love I for a Clarence weep, so doth not she:
you well.

Incapable and shallow innocents,

You cannot guess who caus'd your father's death.
Son. Grandam, we can; for my good uncle Gloster
Told me, the king, provok'd to it by the queen,
Devis'd impeachments to imprison him:
And when my uncle told me so, he wept,
And pitied me, and kindly kiss'd my cheek;
Bade me rely on him, as on my father,
And he would love me dearly as a child.

These babes for Clarence weep, and so do I:
I for an Edward weep, so do not they :-
Alas! you three on me, threefold distress'd,
Pour all your tears, I am your sorrow's nurse,
And I will pamper it with lamentation.

Dor. Comfort, dear mother: God is much displeas'd,
That you take with unthankfulness his doing.
In common worldly things, 'tis call'd ungrateful,
With dull unwillingness to repay a debt,
Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent;

Much more to be thus opposite with heaven,
For it requires the royal debt it lent you.

Riv. Madam, bethink you, like a careful mother,
Of the young prince your son: send straight for him,
Let him be crown'd; in him your comfort lives.
Drown desperate sorrow in dead Edward's grave,
And plant your joys in living Edward's throne.
Enter GLOSTER, BUCKINGHAM, STANLEY, HASTINGS,
RATCLIFFE, and others.

Glo. Sister, have comfort: all of us have cause
To wail the dimming of our shining star;
But none can help our harms by wailing them.—
Madam, my mother, I do cry you mercy;

I did not see your grace.-Humbly on my knee
I crave your blessing.

[Kneels. Duch. God bless thee; and put meekness in thy breast, Love, charity, obedience, and true duty.

Glo. Amen; [Aside.] and make me die a good old man!

That is the butt-end of a mother's blessing;

I marvel, that her grace did leave it out.

Hear you the news abroad?

1 Cit.

Yes; that the king is dead.

2 Cit. Ill news, by'r lady; seldom comes the better: I fear, I fear, 'twill prove a giddy world. Enter another Citizen.

3 Cit. Neighbours, God speed!

1 Cit. Give you good morrow, sir. 3 Cit. Doth the news hold of good king Edward's death? 2 Cit. Ay, sir, it is too true; God help, the while! 3 Cit. Then, masters, look to see a troublous world. 1 Cit. No, no; by God's good grace, his son shall reign. 3 Cit. Woe to that land that's govern'd by a child! 2 Cit. In him there is a hope of government, With, in his nonage, council under him; And, in his full and ripen'd years, himself, No doubt, shall then, and till then, govern well. 1 Cit. So stood the state, when Henry the Sixth Was crown'd in Paris but at nine months old.

3 Cit. Stood the state so? no, no, good friends, God wot;

For then this land was famously enrich'd

Buck. You cloudy princes, and heart-sorrowing peers, With politic grave counsel: then the king

That bear this heavy mutual load of moan,
Now cheer each other in each other's love:
Though we have spent our harvest of this king,
We are to reap the harvest of his son.
The broken rancour of your high-swoln hates,
But lately splinter'd, knit, and join'd together,
Must gently be preserv'd, cherish'd, and kept:
Me seemeth good, that, with some little train,
Forth with from Ludlow the young prince be fet
Hither to London, to be crown'd our king.

Riv. Why with some little train, my lord of Buck-
ingham?

Buck. Marry, my lord, lest, by a multitude,
The new-heal'd wound of malice should break out;
Which would be so much the more dangerous,
By how much the estate is green, and yet ungovern'd;
Where every horse bears his commanding rein,
And may direct his course as please himself,
As well the fear of harm, as harm apparent,
In my opinion, ought to be prevented.

Glo. I hope the king made peace with all of us;
And the compact is firm and true in me.

Riv. And so in me; and so, I think, in all:
Yet, since it is but green, it should be put
To no apparent likelihood of breach,

Which, haply, by much company might be urg'd:
Therefore, I say with noble Buckingham,
That it is meet so few should fetch the prince.
Hast. And so say I.

Glo. Then be it so; and go we to determine
Who they shall be that straight shall post to Ludlow.
Madam, and you my sister,—will you go
To give your censures in this business?

[Exeunt all but BUCKINGHAM and GLOSTER.
Buck. My lord, whoever journeys to the prince,
For God's sake, let not us two stay at home;
For by the way I'll sort occasion,

As index to the story we late talk'd of,

To part the queen's proud kindred from the prince.
Glo. My other self, my counsel's consistory,
My oracle, my prophet!-My dear cousin,
I, as a child, will go by thy direction.

Towards Ludlow then, for we'll not stay behind. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.-The Same. A Street.

Enter two Citizens, meeting.

1 Cit. Good morrow, neighbour: whither away so fast? 2 Cit. I promise you, I scarcely know myself.

Had virtuous uncles to protect his grace.

1 Cit. Why, so hath this, both by his father and mother. 3 Cit. Better it were they all came by his father,

Or by his father there were none at all;

For emulation, who shall now be nearest,
Will touch us all too near, if God prevent not.
O! full of danger is the duke of Gloster;
And the queen's 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 Cit. Come, come; we fear the worst: all will be
well.

3 Cit. When clouds are seen, wise men put on their
cloaks;

When great leaves fall, then winter is at hand :
When the sun sets, who doth not look for night?
Untimely storms make men expect a dearth.
All may be well; but, if God sort it so,
"Tis more than we deserve, or I expect.

2 Cit. Truly, the hearts of men are full of fear:
You cannot reason almost with a man
That looks not heavily, and full of dread.

3 Cit. Before the days of change, still is it so.
By a divine instinct men's minds mistrust
Pursuing danger; as by proof we see
The water swell before a boisterous storm.
But leave it all to God. Whither away?

2 Cit. Marry, we were sent for to the justices.
3 Cit. And so was I: I'll bear you company.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.-London. A Room in the Palace.
Enter the Archbishop of YORK, the young Duke of YORK,
Queen ELIZABETH, and the Duchess of YORK.
Arch. Last night, I heard, they lay at Stony-Strat-
ford,

And at Northampton they do rest to-night:
To-morrow, or next day, they will be here.
Duch. I long with all my heart to see the prince:
I hope, he is much grown since last I saw him.
Q. Eliz. But I hear, no: they say, my son of York
Hath almost overta'en him in his growth.

York. Ay, mother, but I would not have it so.
Duch. Why, my young cousin? it is good to grow.
York. Grandam, one night, as we did sit at supper,
My uncle Rivers talk'd how I did grow

More than my brother; "Ay," quoth my uncle Gloster, "Small herbs have grace, great weeds do grow apace :"

And since, methinks, I would not grow so fast,
Because sweet flowers are slow, and weeds make haste.
Duch. 'Good faith, 'good faith, the saying did not
hold

In him that did object the same to thee:
He was the wretched'st thing when he was young,
So long a growing, and so leisurely,
That, if his rule were true, he should be gracious.
Arch. And so, no doubt, he is, my gracious madam.
Duch. I hope, he is; but yet let mothers doubt.
York. Now, by my troth, if I had been remember'd,
I could have given my uncle's grace a flout,
To touch his growth nearer than he touch'd mine.
Duch. How, my young York? I pr'ythee, let me
hear it.

York. Marry, they say, my uncle grew so fast,
That he could gnaw a crust at two hours old:
'Twas full two years ere I could get a tooth.
Grandam, this would have been a biting jest.
Duch. I pr'ythee, pretty York, who told thee this?
York. Grandam, his nurse.

Duch. His nurse! why, she was dead ere thou wast born.

York. If 'twere not she, I cannot tell who told me.
Q. Eliz. A parlous boy. Go to, you are too shrewd.
Arch. Good madam, be not angry with the child.
Q. Eliz. Pitchers have ears.

Enter a Messenger.

Arch. Here comes a messenger: what news with you?
Mess. Such news, my lord, as grieves me to report.
Q. Eliz. How doth the prince?
Mess.

Well, madam, and in health.
Duch. What is thy news?
Mess. Lord Rivers and lord Grey are sent to Pom-
fret,

And with them sir Thomas Vaughan, prisoners.

SCENE I.-London. A Street.

Mess. The sum of all I can I have disclos'd: Why, or for what, the nobles were committed, Is all unknown to me, my gracious lady.

Q. Eliz. Ah me! I see the ruin of my house.
The tiger now hath seiz'd the gentle hind;
Insulting tyranny begins to jet

Upon the innocent and awless throne :-
Welcome, destruction, blood, and massacre!
I see, as in a map, the end of all.

Duch. Accursed and unquiet wrangling days,
How many of you have mine eyes beheld?
My husband lost his life to get the crown;
Too often up and down my sons were tost,
For me to joy, and weep, their gain, and loss:
And being seated, and domestic broils
Clean over-blown, themselves, the conquerors,
Make war upon themselves; brother to brother,
Blood to blood, self against self:-O! preposterous
And frantic outrage, end thy damned spleen;
Or let me die, to look on death no more.

Q. Eliz. Come, come, my boy; we will to sanc-
tuary.-
Madam, farewell.
Duch.

Stay, I will go with you.
Q. Eliz. You have no cause.
Arch.

My gracious lady, go, [To the Queen.
And thither bear your treasure and your goods.
For my part, I'll resign unto your grace
The seal I keep and so betide to me,
As well I tender you, and all of yours.
Go; I'll conduct you to the sanctuary.

ACT III.

all.

[Exeunt.

Prince. I thank you, good my lord; and thank you thought my mother, and my brother York, [Exeunt Mayor, &c. Would long ere this have met us on the way: Fie! what a slug is Hastings, that he comes not To tell us whether they will come or no.

Enter HASTINGS.

Buck. And in good time here comes the sweating lord. Prince. Welcome, my lord. What, will our mother come?

Hast. On what occasion, God he knows, not I, The queen your mother, and your brother York, Have taken sanctuary: the tender prince

Glo. Sweet prince, the untainted virtue of your years Would fain have come with me to meet your grace, Hath not yet div'd into the world's deceit :

No more can you distinguish of a man,

Than of his outward show; which, God he knows,
Seldom, or never, jumpeth with the heart.
Those uncles, which you want, were dangerous;
Your grace attended to their sugar'd words,
But look'd not on the poison of their hearts:
God keep you from them, and from such false friends!
Prince. God keep me from false friends! but they

were none.

Glo. My lord, the mayor of London comes to greet you.

Enter the Lord Mayor, and his Train. May. God bless your grace with health and happy days!

But by his mother was perforce withheld.

Buck. Fie! what an indirect and peevish course
Is this of hers.-Lord cardinal, will your grace
Persuade the queen to send the duke of York
Unto his princely brother presently?

If she deny, lord Hastings, go with him,
And from her jealous arms pluck him perforce.
Card. My lord of Buckingham, if my weak oratory
Can from his mother win the duke of York,
Anon expect him here; but if she be obdurate
To mild entreaties, God in heaven forbid
We should infringe the holy privilege
Of blessed sanctuary! not for all this land,
Would I be guilty of so great a sin.

Buck. You are too strict and abstinent, my lord,

Too ceremonious, and traditional:
Weigh it but with the goodness of his age,
You break not sanctuary in seizing him.
The benefit thereof is always granted

To those whose dealings have deserv'd the place,
And those who have the wit to claim the place:
This prince hath neither claim'd it, nor deserv'd it ;
Therefore, in mine opinion, cannot have it:
Then, taking him from thence, that is not there,
You break no privilege nor charter there.
Oft have I heard of sanctuary men,
But sanctuary children, ne'er till now.

Card. My lord, you shall o'er-rule my mind for once.—
Come on, lord Hastings; will you go with me?
Hast. I go, my lord.

Prince. Good lords, make all the speedy haste you [Exeunt Cardinal and HASTINGS. Say, uncle Gloster, if our brother come,

may.

Where shall we sojourn till our coronation?

Glo. Where it seems best unto your royal self.

If I may counsel you, some day, or two,

Your highness shall repose you at the Tower:

Glo. He may command me as my sovereign,
But you have power o'er me as a kinsman.
York. I pray you, uncle, give me this dagger.
Glo. My dagger, little cousin? with all my
Prince. A beggar, brother?

heart.

York. Of my kind uncle, that I know will give;
And, being but a toy, which is no grief to give.

Glo. A greater gift than that I'll give my cousin.
York. A greater gift? O! that's the sword to it.
Glo. Ay, gentle cousin, were it light enough.
York. O! then, I see, you'll part but with light gifts:
In weightier things you'll say a beggar, nay.
Glo. It is too weighty for your grace to wear.
York. I weigh it lightly, were it heavier.

Glo. What! would you have my weapon, little lord?
York. I would, that I might thank you as you call me.
Glo. How?

York. Little.

Prince. My lord of York will still be cross in
talk.-

Uncle, your grace knows how to bear with him.
York. You mean, to bear me, not to bear with me.-

Then, where you please, and shall be thought most fit Uncle, my brother mocks both you and me :
For your best health and recreation.

Prince. I do not like the Tower, of any place.-
Did Julius Cæsar build that place, my lord?

Buck. He did, my gracious lord, begin that place,
Which, since, succeeding ages have re-edified.
Prince. Is it upon record, or else reported
Successively from age to age, he built it?

Buck. It is upon record, my gracious lord.
Prince. But say, my lord, it were not register'd,
Methinks, the truth should live from age to age,
As 'twere retail'd to all posterity,
Even to the general all-ending day.

Glo. So wise so young, they say, do ne'er live long.

Prince. What say you, uncle?

[Aside.

Glo. I say without characters fame lives long. Thus, like the formal Vice, Iniquity,

I moralize two meanings in one word.

[Aside.

Prince. That Julius Cæsar was a famous man:
With what his valour did enrich his wit,
His wit set down to make his valour live:
Death makes no conquest of his conqueror,
For now he lives in fame, though not in life.-
I'll tell you what, my cousin Buckingham.
Buck. What, my gracious lord?
Prince. An if I live until I be a man,
I'll win our ancient right in France again,
Or die a soldier, as I liv'd a king.

Glo. Short summers lightly have a forward spring.

[Aside.
Enter YORK, HASTINGS, and the Cardinal.
Buck. Now, in good time here comes the duke of
York.

Prince. Richard of York! how fares our noble
brother?

York. Well, my dread lord; so must I call you now.
Prince. Ay, brother; to our grief, as it is yours.
Too late he died, that might have kept that title,
Which by his death hath lost much majesty.

Glo. How fares our cousin, noble lord of York?
York. I thank you, gentle uncle. O! my lord,
You said, that idle weeds are fast in growth:
The prince my brother hath outgrown me far.
Glo. He hath, my lord.

York.
And therefore is he idle?
Glo. O my fair cousin, I must not say so.
York. Then he is more beholding to you, than I.

Because that I am little, like an ape,

He thinks that you should bear me on your shoulders.
Buck. With what a sharply pointed wit he reasons:
To mitigate the scorn he gives his uncle,
He prettily and aptly taunts himself.
So cunning, and so young, is wonderful.

Glo. My lord, will't please your grace to pass along?
Myself, and my good cousin Buckingham,
Will to your mother, to entreat of her

To meet you at the Tower, and welcome you.
York. What! will you go unto the Tower, my lord?
Prince. My lord protector needs will have it so.
York. I shall not sleep in quiet at the Tower.
Glo. Why, what should you fear?

York. Marry, my uncle Clarence' angry ghost:
My grandam told me, he was murder'd there.
Prince. I fear no uncles dead.

Glo. Nor none that live, I hope.

Prince. An if they live, I hope, I need not fear.
But come, my lord, and, with a heavy heart,
Thinking on them, go I unto the Tower.

[A sennet. Exeunt Prince, YORK, HASTINGS,
Cardinal, and Attendants.
Buck. Think you, my lord, this little prating York
Was not incensed by his subtle mother
To taunt and scorn you thus opprobriously?

Glo. No doubt, no doubt. O! 'tis a perilous boy;
Bold, quick, ingenious, forward, capable:
He's all the mother's from the top to toe.

Buck. Well, let them rest.-Come hither, Catesby.
Thou art sworn as deeply to effect what we intend,
As closely to conceal what we impart.
Thou know'st our reasons urg'd upon the way :-
What think'st thou? is it not an easy matter
To make William lord Hastings of our mind,
For the instalment of this noble duke
In the seat royal of this famous isle?

Cate. He for his father's sake so loves the prince,
That he will not be won to aught against him.

I Buck. What think'st thou then of Stanley? will
not he?

Cate. He will do all in all as Hastings doth.
Buck. Well then, no more but this. Go, gentle

Catesby,

And, as it were far off, sound thou lord Hastings,
How he doth stand affected to our purpose;
And summon him to-morrow to the Tower,

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The Plays of Shakespeare: The Text Regulated by the Old Copies, and by the ...