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 nomination

Ely. 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 his minde

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'd His 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.

Ely. In happie time, here comes the Duke himselfe

Rich. My Noble Lords, and Cousins all, good morrow: I haue beene long a sleeper: but I trust, My absence doth neglect no great designe, Which by my presence might haue beene concluded

Buck. Had you not come vpon your Q my Lord, William, Lord Hastings, had pronounc'd your part; I meane your Voice, for Crowning of the King

Rich. Then my Lord Hastings, no man might be bolder, His Lordship knowes me well, and loues me well. My Lord of Ely, when I was last in Holborne, I saw good Strawberries in your Garden there, I doe beseech you, send for some of them

Ely. Mary and will, my Lord, with all my heart.

Exit Bishop.

Rich. Cousin of Buckingham, a word with you. Catesby hath sounded Hastings in our businesse, And findes the testie Gentleman so hot, That he will lose his Head, ere giue consent His Masters Child, as worshipfully he tearmes it, Shall lose the Royaltie of Englands Throne

Buck. Withdraw your selfe a while, Ile goe with you.


Darb. We haue not yet set downe this day of Triumph: To morrow, in my iudgement, is too sudden, For I my selfe am not so well prouided, As else I would be, were the day prolong'd. Enter the Bishop of Ely.

Ely. Where is my Lord, the Duke of Gloster? I haue sent for these Strawberries

Ha. His Grace looks chearfully & smooth this morning, There's some conceit or other likes him well, When that he bids good morrow with such spirit. I thinke there's neuer a man in Christendome Can lesser hide his loue, or hate, then hee, For by his Face straight shall you know his Heart

Darb. What of his Heart perceiue you in his Face, By any liuelyhood he shew'd to day? Hast. Mary, that with no man here he is offended: For were he, he had shewne it in his Lookes. Enter Richard, and Buckingham.

Rich. I pray you all, tell me what they deserue, That doe conspire my death with diuellish Plots Of damned Witchcraft, and that haue preuail'd Vpon my Body with their Hellish Charmes

Hast. The tender loue I beare your Grace, my Lord, Makes me most forward, in this Princely presence, To doome th' Offendors, whosoe're they be: I say, my Lord, they haue deserued death

Rich. Then be your eyes the witnesse of their euill. Looke how I am bewitch'd: behold, mine Arme Is like a blasted Sapling, wither'd vp: And this is Edwards Wife, that monstrous Witch, Consorted with that Harlot, Strumpet Shore, That by their Witchcraft thus haue marked me

William Shakespeare
Classic Literature Library

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