Richard III

  Rich. Sister haue comfort, all of vs haue causeTo waile the dimming of our shining Starre:But none can helpe our harmes by wayling them.Madam, my Mother, I do cry you mercie,I did not see your Grace. Humbly on my knee,I craue your Blessing   Dut. God blesse thee, and put meeknes in thy breast,Loue Charity, Obedience, and true Dutie   Rich. Amen, and make me die a good old man,That is the butt-end of a Mothers blessing;I maruell that her Grace did leaue it out   Buc. You clowdy-Princes, & hart-sorowing-Peeres,That beare this heauie mutuall loade of Moane,Now cheere each other, in each others Loue:Though we haue spent our Haruest of this King,We are to reape the Haruest of his Sonne.The broken rancour of your high-swolne hates,But lately splinter'd, knit, and ioyn'd together,Must gently be preseru'd, cherisht, and kept:Me seemeth good, that with some little Traine,Forthwith from Ludlow, the young Prince be setHither to London, to be crown'd our King   Riuers. Why with some little Traine,My Lord of Buckingham?  Buc. Marrie my Lord, least by a multitude,The new-heal'd wound of Malice should breake out,Which would be so much the more dangerous,By how much the estate is greene, and yet vngouern'd.Where euery Horse beares his commanding Reine,And may direct his course as please himselfe,As well the feare of harme, as harme apparant,In my opinion, ought to be preuented   Rich. I hope the King made peace with all of vs,And the compact is firme, and true in me   Riu. And so in me, and so (I thinke) in all.Yet since it is but greene, it should be putTo no apparant likely-hood of breach,Which haply by much company might be vrg'd:Therefore I say with Noble Buckingham,That it is meete so few should fetch the PrinceHast. And so say I   Rich. Then be it so, and go we to determineWho they shall be that strait shall poste to London.Madam, and you my Sister, will you goTo giue your censures in this businesse.

Exeunt.

Manet Buckingham, and Richard.  Buc. My Lord, who euer iournies to the Prince,For God sake let not vs two stay at home:For by the way, Ile sort occasion,As Index to the story we late talk'd of,To part the Queenes proud Kindred from the Prince   Rich. My other selfe, my Counsailes Consistory,My Oracle, My Prophet, my deere Cosin,I, as a childe, will go by thy direction,Toward London then, for wee'l not stay behinde.

Exeunt.

Scena Tertia

Enter one Citizen at one doore, and another at the other.

  1.Cit. Good morrow Neighbour, whether away sofast?  2.Cit. I promise you, I scarsely know my selfe:Heare you the newes abroad?  1. Yes, that the King is dead

2. Ill newes byrlady, seldome comes the better: I feare, I feare, 'twill proue a giddy world. Enter another Citizen.

3. Neighbours, God speed1. Giue you good morrow sir

3. Doth the newes hold of good king Edwards death? 2. I sir, it is too true, God helpe the while

3. Then Masters looke to see a troublous world1. No, no, by Gods good grace, his Son shall reigne3. Woe to that Land that's gouern'd by a Childe   2. In him there is a hope of Gouernment,Which in his nonage, counsell vnder him,And in his full and ripened yeares, himselfeNo doubt shall then, and till then gouerne well   1. So stood the State, when Henry the sixtWas crown'd in Paris, but at nine months old   3. Stood the State so? No, no, good friends, God wotFor then this Land was famously enrich'dWith politike graue Counsell; then the KingHad vertuous Vnkles to protect his Grace1. Why so hath this, both by his Father and Mother   3. Better it were they all came by his Father:Or by his Father there were none at all:For emulation, who shall now be neerest,Will touch vs all too neere, if God preuent not.O full of danger is the Duke of Glouster,And the Queenes Sons, and Brothers, haught and proud:And were they to be rul'd, and not to rule,This sickly Land, might solace as before1. Come, come, we feare the worst: all will be well   3. When Clouds are seen, wisemen put on their clokes;When great leaues fall, then Winter is at hand;When the Sun sets, who doth not looke for night?Vntimely stormes, makes men expect a Dearth:All may be well; but if God sort it so,'Tis more then we deserue, or I expect

2. Truly, the hearts of men are full of feare: You cannot reason (almost) with a man, That lookes not heauily, and full of dread

3. Before the dayes of Change, still is it so, By a diuine instinct, mens mindes mistrust Pursuing danger: as by proofe we see The Water swell before a boyst'rous storme: But leaue it all to God. Whither away? 2 Marry we were sent for to the Iustices

3 And so was I: Ile beare you company.

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta

Enter Arch-bishop, yong Yorke, the Queene, and the Dutchesse.

  Arch. Last night I heard they lay at Stony Stratford,And at Northampton they do rest to night:To morrow, or next day, they will be heere   Dut. I long with all my heart to see the Prince:I hope he is much growne since last I saw him   Qu. But I heare no, they say my sonne of YorkeHa's almost ouertane him in his growthYorke. I Mother, but I would not haue it soDut. Why my good Cosin, it is good to grow   Yor. Grandam, one night as we did sit at Supper,My Vnkle Riuers talk'd how I did growMore then my Brother. I, quoth my Vnkle Glouster,Small Herbes haue grace, great Weeds do grow apace.And since, me thinkes I would not grow so fast,Because sweet Flowres are slow, and Weeds make hast   Dut. Good faith, good faith, the saying did not holdIn him that did obiect the same to thee.He was the wretched'st thing when he was yong,So long a growing, and so leysurely,That if his rule were true, he should be graciousYor. And so no doubt he is, my gracious MadamDut. I hope he is, but yet let Mothers doubt   Yor. Now by my troth, if I had beene remembred,I could haue giuen my Vnkles Grace, a flout,To touch his growth, neerer then he toucht mine   Dut. How my yong Yorke,I prythee let me heare it   Yor. Marry (they say) my Vnkle grew so fast,That he could gnaw a crust at two houres old,'Twas full two yeares ere I could get a tooth.Grandam, this would haue beene a byting Iest   Dut. I prythee pretty Yorke, who told thee this?  Yor. Grandam, his NursseDut. His Nurse? why she was dead, ere y wast borneYor. If 'twere not she, I cannot tell who told meQu. A parlous Boy: go too, you are too shrew'dDut. Good Madam, be not angry with the Childe   Qu. Pitchers haue eares.

Enter a Messenger.

  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 IuttVpon 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 tostFor me to ioy, and weepe, their gaine and losse.And being seated, and Domesticke broylesCleane ouer-blowne, themselues the Conquerors,Make warre vpon themselues, Brother to Brother;Blood to blood, selfe against selfe: O prepostorousAnd 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, farwellDut. Stay, I will go with youQu. You haue no cause   Arch. My gracious Lady go,And thether beare your Treasure and your Goodes,For my part, Ile resigne vnto your GraceThe 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 SoueraignThe 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 yeersHath 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 greetyou.

Enter Lord Maior.

  Lo.Maior. God blesse your Grace, with health andhappie 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 notTo tell vs, whether they will come, or no.

Enter Lord Hastings.

  Buck. And in good time, heere comes the sweatingLord   Prince. Welcome, my Lord: what, will our Mothercome?  Hast. On what occasion God he knowes, not I;The Queene your Mother, and your Brother Yorke,Haue taken Sanctuarie: The tender PrinceWould faine haue come with me, to meet your Grace,But by his Mother was perforce with-held   Buck. Fie, what an indirect and peeuish courseIs this of hers? Lord Cardinall, will your GracePerswade the Queene, to send the Duke of YorkeVnto 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 OratorieCan from his Mother winne the Duke of Yorke,Anon expect him here: but if she be obdurateTo milde entreaties, God forbidWe should infringe the holy PriuiledgeOf 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 grantedTo 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 twoYour Highnesse shall repose you at the Tower:Then where you please, and shall be thought most fitFor your best health, and recreation   Prince. I doe not like the Tower, of any place:Did Iulius Cćsar 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 reportedSuccessiuely 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 dayGlo. 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 Cćsar 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 ofYorke   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 farreGlo. He hath, my Lord   Yorke. And therefore is he idle?  Glo. Oh my faire Cousin, I must not say soYorke. 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 KinsmanYorke. I pray you, Vnckle, giue me this DaggerGlo. 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 giueGlo. A greater gift then that, Ile giue my CousinYorke. A greater gift? O, that's the Sword to itGlo. 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 nayGlo. It is too weightie for your Grace to weareYorke. 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, youcall 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 herTo 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 soYorke. 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 therePrince. I feare no Vnckles deadGlo. 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 YorkeWas 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 DukeIn 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? Willnot 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 AduersariesTo morrow are let blood at Pomfret Castle,And bid my Lord, for ioy of this good newes,Giue Mistresse Shore one gentle Kisse the moreBuck. Good Catesby, goe effect this businesse soundlyCates. My good Lords both, with all the heed I can   Rich. Shall we heare from you, Catesby, ere we sleepe?  Cates. You shall, my LordRich. At Crosby House, there shall you find vs both.

Exit Catesby.

  Buck. Now, my Lord,What shall wee doe, if wee perceiueLord 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 meThe Earledome of Hereford, and all the moueablesWhereof the King, my Brother, was possestBuck. Ile clayme that promise at your Graces hand   Rich. And looke to haue it yeelded with all kindnesse.Come, let vs suppe betimes, that afterwardsWee 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 tediousNights?  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 NightHe 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 graciousminde   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 outWith Riuers, Vaughan, Grey: and so 'twill doeWith some men else, that thinke themselues as safeAs thou and I, who (as thou know'st) are deareTo 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 wasPurs. God hold it, to your Honors good contentHast. 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, thenceHast. 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-suckersVaugh. You liue, that shall cry woe for this heereafterRat. 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 spiltRat. 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 nominationEly. 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 hisminde   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'dHis 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.