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Haft. But I fhall laugh at this a twelve month hence,,
That they, who brought me in my mafter's hate,
I live to look upon their tragedy.

Well, Catesby, ere a fortnight make me older,
I'll fend fome packing that yet think not on't.

Catef. 'Tis a vile thing to die, my gracious Lord,
When men are unprepar'd and look not for it.

Haft. O monftrous, monftrous! and fo falls it out
With Rivers, Vaughan, Gray; and fo 'twill do
With fome men elfe, who think themselves as fafe
As thou and I; who, as thou know'ft, are dear
To Princely Richard and to Buckingham.

Cates. The Princes both make high account of youFor they account his head upon the bridge. [Afide. Haft. I know they do; and I have well deferv'd it. Enter Lord Stanley.

Come on, come on, where is your boar-spear, man ?
Fear you the boar, and go fo unprovided?

Stan. My Lord, good morrow; and, good morrow,
Catesby;

You may jeft on, but, by the holy rood,
I do not like these feveral Councils, I.

Haft. My Lord, I hold my life as dear as you do yours. And never in my days, I do proteft,

Was it fo precious to me as 'tis now ;

Think you, but that I know our state secure,
I would be fo triumphant as I am?

Stan. The Lords at Pomfret, when they rode from
London,

Were jocund, and fuppos'd, their ftates were fure;
And they, indeed, had no caufe to miftruft ;
But yet, you fee, hot foon the day o'er-caft.
This fudden ftab of rancor I misdoubt;
Pray God, I fay, I prove a needlefs coward!

What, fhall we tow'rd the Tower? the day is spent.
Haft. Come, come, have with you; wot ye what, my
Lord ?

To day the Lords, you talk of, are beheaded.

Stan. They, for their truth, might better wear their

heads,

Than

'Than fome that have accus'd them, wear their hats. But come, my Lord, away.

Enter a Purfuivant.

Haft. Go on before, I'll talk with this good fellow. [Exeunt Lord Stanley and Catesby. Sirrah, how now? how goes the world with thee? Purf. The better that your Lordship please to ask. Haft. I tell thee, man, 'tis better with me now, Than when thou met'ft me last where now we meet; Then I was going prifoner to the Tower, By the fuggeftion 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 e'er I was.

Purf. God hold it to your Honour's good content! Haft. Gramercy, fellow; there, drink that for me.

Purf. I thank your Honour.

Enter a Prieft.

[Throws him his purfe. [Exit Purfuivant.

Prieft. Well met, my Lord, I'm glad to see your Honour.

Haft. I thank thee, good Sir John, with all my heart; I'm in your debt for your last exercise :

Come the next fabbath, and I will content you.

Enter Buckingham.

[He whispers.

Buck. What, talking with a Priest, Lord Chamberlain ? Your friends at Pomfret they do need a Prieft,

Your Honour hath no fhriving work in hand.

Haft. Good faith, and when I met this holy man,
The men, you talk of, came into my mind.
What, go you tow'rd the Tower?

Buck. I do, my Lord, but long I shall not ftay:

I fhall return before your Lordship thence.

Haft. Nay, like enough. for I ftay dinner there.
Buck. And fupper too, altho' thou know'ft it not.

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Come, will you go?

Haft. I'll wait upon your Lordship.

[Exeunt.

SCENE changes to Pomfret-Castle.

Enter Sir Richard Ratcliff, with halberds, carrying Lord Rivers, Lord Richard Gray, and Sir Thomas Vaughan to Death.

Rat,

OME, bring forth the prisoners.

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Riv. Sir Richard Ratcliff, let me tell thee
this,

To day fhalt thou behold a subject die
For truth, for duty, and for loyalty.

Gray. God keep the Prince from all the pack of you, A knot you are of damned blood-fuckers.

Vaugh. You live, that shall cry woe for this hereafter. Rat. Dispatch; 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 flander to thy difmal feat,
We give to thee our guiltless blood to drink.

Gray. Now Margret's curfe is fall'n upon our heads,
When the exclaim'd on Hastings, you, and I,
For ftanding by when Richard ftab'd her fon.

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Riv. Then curs'd she Richard, curs'd fhe Buckingham,
Then curs'd fhe Haftings. O remember, God!
To hear her prayer for them, as now for us:
As for my fifter and her princely sons,

Be fatisfy'd, dear God, with our true blood :
Which, as thou know'ft, unjustly must be spilt.

Rat. Make hafte, the hour of death is now expir'd.
Riv. Come, Gray; come, Vaughan; let us all em-

brace;

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SCENE, The Tower.

Buckingham, Stanley, Haftings, Bishop of Ely, Catesby, Lovel, with others, at a table.

Haft. NOW, noble Peers, the cause why we are met

Is to determine of the coronation :
In God's name fpeak, when is the royal day?
Buck. Are all things ready for that royal time?
Stanl. They are, and want 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, fhould foonest 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 Haftings, you and he are near in love.

Haft. I thank his Grace, I know he loves me well: But for his purpose in the Coronation,

I have not founded 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 prefume, he'll take in gentle part.
Enter Gloucefter.

Ely. In happy time here comes the Duke himself.
Glo My noble Lords and Coufins all, good morrow;
I have been long a fleeper; but, I trust,
My abfence doth neglect no great defign;
Which by my prefence might have been concluded.
Buck. Had you not come upon your cue, my Lord,
William Lord Haflings had pronounc'd your part;
I mean, your voice for crowning of the King.

Glo. Than my Lord Haftings no man might be bolder, His Lord hip knows me well, and loves me well. My Lord of Ely, when I was laft in Holbourn, I faw good ftrawberries in your garden there ;

I do beseech you, fend for fome of them.

Ely. Marry, and will, my lord, with all my heart. [Exit Ely. Glo. Coufin of Buckingham, a word with you. Catesby hath founded Haftings in our business, And finds the tefty gentleman fo hot, That he will lofe his head, ere give Confent, His Mafter's Son, as worshipfully he terms it, Shall lose the Royalty of England's Throne. Buck. Withdraw yourfelf a while, I'll go with you. [Exe. Glo. and Buck. Stanl. We have not yet fet down this day of Triumph;

To morrow, in my judgment, is too fudden;

For I myself am not fo well provided,
As elfe I would be, were the day prolong'd.
Re-enter Bishop of Ely.

Ely. Where is my lord the Duke of Gloucefter
I have fent for these ftrawberries.

Haft. His Grace looks chearfully and fmooth this morning;

There's fome conceit, or other, likes him well,
When that he bids good morrow with fuch spirit.
I think, there's ne'er a man in Christendom
Can leffer hide his love, or hate, than he;
For by his face ftrait shall you know his heart.

Stanl. What of his heart perceive you in his face,
By any likelihood he fhew'd to day?

Haft. Marry, that with no man here he is offended: For were he, he had fhewn it in his looks.

Re-enter Gloucester and Buckingham.

Glo. I pray you all, tell me what they deserve,
That do confpire my death with devilish plots
Of damned Witchcraft; and that have prevail'd
Upon my body with their hellish Charms.

Haft. The tender love I bear your Grace, my lord,
Makes me moft forward in this Princely presence,
To doom th' offenders, whofoe'er they be:

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