For standing by when Richard stabb’d her son.
RIVERS
Then curs’d she Richard, then curs’d she Buckingham,
Then curs’d she Hastings:—O, remember, God,
To hear her prayer for them, as now for us!
And for my sister, and her princely sons,
Be satisfied, dear God, with our true blood,
Which, as Thou know’st, unjustly must be spilt.
RATCLIFF
Make haste; the hour of death is expiate.
RIVERS
Come, Grey;—come, Vaughan;—let us here embrace.
Farewell, until we meet again in heaven.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE IV. London. A Room in the Tower
[BUCKINGHAM, STANLEY, HASTINGS, the BISHOP of ELY, RATCLIFF, LOVEL, and others sitting at a table: Officers of the Council attending.]
HASTINGS
Now, noble peers, the cause why we are met
Is to determine of the coronation.
In God’s name speak,—when is the royal day?
BUCKINGHAM
Are all things ready for that royal time?
STANLEY
Thery are, and wants but nomination.
ELY
Tomorrow, then, I judge a happy day.
BUCKINGHAM
Who knows the lord protector’s mind herein?
Who is most inward with the noble duke?
ELY
Your grace, we think, should soonest know his mind.
BUCKINGHAM
We know each other’s faces: for our hearts,
He knows no more of mine than I of yours;
Or I of his, my lord, than you of mine.—
Lord Hastings, you and he are near in love.
HASTINGS
I thank his grace, I know he loves me well;
But for his purpose in the coronation
I have not sounded him, nor he deliver’d
His gracious pleasure any way therein:
But you, my honourable lords, may name the time;
And in the duke’s behalf I’ll give my voice,
Which, I presume, he’ll take in gentle part.
ELY
In happy time, here comes the duke himself.
[Enter GLOSTER.]
GLOSTER
My noble lords and cousins all, good morrow.
I have been long a sleeper; but I trust
My absence doth neglect no great design
Which by my presence might have been concluded.
BUCKINGHAM
Had you not come upon your cue, my lord,
William Lord Hastings had pronounc’d your part,—
I mean, your voice,—for crowning of the king.
GLOSTER
Than my Lord Hastings no man might be bolder;
His lordship knows me well and loves me well.—
My lord of Ely, when I was last in Holborn
I saw good strawberries in your garden there:
I do beseech you send for some of them.
ELY
Marry, and will, my lord, with all my heart.
[Exit.]
GLOSTER
Cousin of Buckingham, a word with you.
[Takes him aside.]
Catesby hath sounded Hastings in our business,
And finds the testy gentleman so hot
That he will lose his head ere give consent
His master’s child, as worshipfully he terms it,
Shall lose the royalty of England’s throne.
BUCKINGHAM
Withdraw yourself awhile; I’ll go with you.
[Exeunt GLOSTER and BUCKINGHAM.]
STANLEY
We have not yet set down this day of triumph.
Tomorrow, in my judgment, is too sudden;
For I myself am not so well provided
As else I would be, were the day prolong’d.
[Re-enter BISHOP OF ELY.]
ELY
Where is my lord the Duke of Gloster?
I have sent for these strawberries.
HASTINGS
His grace looks cheerfully and smooth this morning;
There’s some conceit or other likes him well
When that he bids good morrow with such spirit.
I think there’s ne’er a man in Christendom
Can lesser hide his love or hate than he;
For by his face straight shall you know his heart.
STANLEY
What of his heart perceive you in his face
By any livelihood he showed to-day?
HASTINGS
Marry, that with no man here he is offended;
For, were he, he had shown it in his looks.
[Re-enter GLOSTER and BUCKINGHAM.]
GLOSTER
I pray you all, tell me what they deserve
That do conspire my death with devilish plots
Of damnèd witchcraft, and that have prevail’d
Upon my body with their hellish charms?
HASTINGS
The tender love I bear your grace, my lord,
Makes me most forward in this princely presence
To doom the offenders: whosoe’er they be.
I say, my lord, they have deservèd death.
GLOSTER
Then be your eyes the witness of their evil:
Look how I am bewitch’d; behold, mine arm
Is, like a blasted sapling, wither’d up:
And this is Edward’s wife, that monstrous witch,
Consorted with that harlot-strumpet Shore,
That by their witchcraft thus have markèd me.
HASTINGS
If they have done this deed, my noble lord,—
GLOSTER
If!—thou protector of this damnèd strumpet,
Talk’st thou to me of “ifs”?—Thou art a traitor:—
Off with his head!—now, by Saint Paul I swear,
I will not dine until I see the same.—