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.
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 gracious minde
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 out With Riuers, Vaughan, Grey: and so 'twill doe With some men else, that thinke themselues as safe As thou and I, who (as thou know'st) are deare To 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