Page. My Lord
Rich. Know'st thou not any, whom corrupting Gold Will tempt vnto a close exploit of Death? Page. I know a discontented Gentleman, Whose humble meanes match not his haughtie spirit: Gold were as good as twentie Orators, And will (no doubt) tempt him to any thing
Rich. What is his Name? Page. His Name, my Lord, is Tirrell
Rich. I partly know the man: goe call him hither, Boy. Enter.
The deepe reuoluing wittie Buckingham, No more shall be the neighbor to my counsailes. Hath he so long held out with me, vntyr'd, And stops he now for breath? Well, be it so. Enter Stanley.
How now, Lord Stanley, what's the newes? Stanley. Know my louing Lord, the Marquesse Dorset As I heare, is fled to Richmond, In the parts where he abides
Rich. Come hither Catesby, rumor it abroad, That Anne my Wife is very grieuous sicke, I will take order for her keeping close. Inquire me out some meane poore Gentleman, Whom I will marry straight to Clarence Daughter: The Boy is foolish, and I feare not him. Looke how thou dream'st: I say againe, giue out, That Anne, my Queene, is sicke, and like to dye. About it, for it stands me much vpon To stop all hopes, whose growth may dammage me. I must be marryed to my Brothers Daughter, Or else my Kingdome stands on brittle Glasse: Murther her Brothers, and then marry her, Vncertaine way of gaine. But I am in So farre in blood, that sinne will pluck on sinne, Teare-falling Pittie dwells not in this Eye. Enter Tyrrel.
Is thy Name Tyrrel? Tyr. Iames Tyrrel, and your most obedient subiect
Rich. Art thou indeed? Tyr. Proue me, my gracious Lord
Rich. Dar'st thou resolue to kill a friend of mine? Tyr. Please you: But I had rather kill two enemies
Rich. Why then thou hast it: two deepe enemies, Foes to my Rest, and my sweet sleepes disturbers, Are they that I would haue thee deale vpon: Tyrrel, I meane those Bastards in the Tower
Tyr. Let me haue open meanes to come to them, And soone Ile rid you from the feare of them
Rich. Thou sing'st sweet Musique: Hearke, come hither Tyrrel, Goe by this token: rise, and lend thine Eare,
There is no more but so: say it is done, And I will loue thee, and preferre thee for it
Tyr. I will dispatch it straight. Enter.
Buck. My Lord, I haue consider'd in my minde, The late request that you did sound me in
Rich. Well, let that rest: Dorset is fled to Richmond
Buck. I heare the newes, my Lord
Rich. Stanley, hee is your Wiues Sonne: well, looke vnto it
Buck. My Lord, I clayme the gift, my due by promise, For which your Honor and your Faith is pawn'd, Th' Earledome of Hertford, and the moueables, Which you haue promised I shall possesse
Rich. Stanley looke to your Wife: if she conuey Letters to Richmond, you shall answer it
Buck. What sayes your Highnesse to my iust request? Rich. I doe remember me, Henry the Sixt Did prophecie, that Richmond should be King, When Richmond was a little peeuish Boy. A King perhaps
Buck. May it please you to resolue me in my suit
Rich. Thou troublest me, I am not in the vaine. Enter
Buck. And is it thus? repayes he my deepe seruice With such contempt? made I him King for this? O let me thinke on Hastings, and be gone To Brecnock, while my fearefull Head is on. Enter.