The deep-revolving witty Buckingham

No more shall be the neighbour to my counsels: 150 Hath he so long held out with me untir'd,

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,

The marquis Dorset, as I hear, is fled

To Richmond, in the parts where he abides.

K. Rich. Come hither, Catesby: rumour it abroad, That Anne my wife is very grievous sick;

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I will take order for her keeping close.
Inquire me out some mean-born gentleman,
Whom I will marry straight to Clarence' daughter:-
The boy is foolish, and I fear not him.-
Look, how thou dream'st!-I say again, give out,
That Anne my queen is sick, and like to die:
About it; for it stands me much upon,

To stop all hopes, whose growth may damage me.

[Exit CATESBY.

I must be marry'd to my brother's daughter,

:

Or else my kingdom stands on brittle glass :-
Murder her brothers, and then marry her!
Uncertain way of gain! But I am in
So far in blood, that sin will pluck on sin.
Tear-falling pity dwells not in this eye.-

Enter TYRREL.

Is thy name-Tyrrel?

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Tyr. James Tyrrel, and your most obedient subject. 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 ene

mies,

Foes to my rest, and my sweet sleep's disturbers, 180 Are they that I would have thee deal upon:

Tyrrel, I mean those bastards in the Tower.

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:

There is no more but so :-Say, it is done,
And I will love thee, and prefer thee for it.
Tyr. I will dispatch it straight.

Re-enter BUCKINGHAM.

[Whispers.

[Exit.

Buck. My lord, I have consider'd in my mind 190 That late demand that you did sound me in.

K. Rich. Well, let that rest. Dorset is filed to

Richmond.

Buck. I hear the news, my lord.

K. Rich. Stanley, he is your wife's son :

look to it.

:-Well,

Buck.

Buck. My lord, I claim the gift, my due by pro

mise,

For which your honour and your faith is pawn'd;
The earldom of Hereford, and the moveables,
Which you have promised I shall possess.

K. Rich. Stanley, look to your wife; if she convey Letters to Richmond, you shall answer it.

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Buck. What says your highness to my just request? K. Rich. I do remember me-Henry the sixth Did prophesy, that Richmond should be king, When Richmond was a little peevish boy. A king!-perhaps→→

Buck. My lord

K. Rich. How chance, the prophet could not at that time.

Have told me, I being by, that I should kill him?
Buck. My lord, your promise for the earldom-
K. Rich. Richmond !-When last I was at Exeter,
The mayor in courtsy shew'd me the castle,
And call'd it Rouge-mont: at which name, I
started;

Because a bard of Ireland told me once,

I should not live long after I saw Richmond.

Buck. My lord

K. Rich. Ay, what's o'clock ?

Buck. I am thus bold to put your grace in mind

Of what you promis'd me.

K. Rich. Well, but what's o'clock ?

Buck. Upon the stroke of ten.

K. Rich. Well, let it strike.

Kiij

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220

Buck.