Haft. The tender love I bear your Grace, my Lord,
Makes me moft forward in this Princely prefence,
To doom th'Offenders, whofoe'er they be:
I fay, my Lord, they have deferved Death.
Glo. Then be your Eyes the witnefs of their Evil,
Look how I am bewitch'd; behold mine Arm
Is like a blafted Sapling wither'd up:

And this is Edward's Wife, that monftrous Witch,
Conforted with that Harlot, Strumpet Shore,
That by their Witchcraft thus have marked me.
Haft. If they have done this Deed, my Noble Lord
Glo. If thou Protector of this damned Strumpet,
Talk'st thou to me of Iffs? thou art a Traitor
Off with his Headow by Saint Paul I swear,
I will not dine until I fee the fame.

Lovel and Ratcliff, look that it be done:

The reft that love me, rife and follow me.

[Exeunt,

Manent Lovel and Ratcliff, with the Lord Haftings.
Haft. Wo, wo for England, not a whit for me,
For I, too fond, might have prevented this:
Stanly did dream the Boar did rase our Helms,
And I did fcorn it, and difdain to fly:

Three times to day my Foot-cloth Horfe did ftumble,
And ftarted when he look'd upon the Tower,
As loath to bear me to the Slaughter-house.
O now I need the Prieft that fpake to me:
I now repent I told the Purfuivant,
As too triumphing, how mine Enemies
To day at Pomfret blocdily were butcher'd,
And I my felf fecure in Grace and Favour.
Oh Margaret, Margaret, now thy heavy Curfe
Is lighted on poor Haftings wretched Head.

Rat. Come, come, dispatch, the Duke would be at dinner. Make a fhort Shrift, he longs to fee your Head.

Haft. O momentary Grace of mortal Men,

Which we more hunt for, than the Grace of God!
Who builds his hope in Air of your gocd Looks,
Lives like a drunken Sailor on a Maft,
Ready with every nod to tumble down
Into the fatal Bowels of the Deep.

Lov. Come, come, difpatch, 'cis bootlefs to exclaim.
Haft. bloody Richard, miferable England,

I prophefie the fearful'ft time to thee,

That ever wretched Age hath look'd upon.
Come, lead me to the Block, bear him my Head:
They fraile at me who fhortly fhall be dead.

[Exeunt. Enter Gloucester and Buckingham in rusty Armour, marvellous ill-favour'd.

Gle. Come Coufin,

Can't thou quake and change thy colour,
Murther thy breath in the middle of a Word,
And then again begin, and ftop again,

As if thou wert diftraught and mad with Terror?
Buck. Tut, I can counterfeit the deep Tragedian,
Speak, and look back, and pry on every fide,
Tremble and ftart at wagging of a Straw:
Intending deep Sufpicion, gaftly Looks
Are at my Service, like enforced Smiles;
And both are ready in their Offices,
At any time, to grace my Stratagems.
But what, is Catesby gone?

Glo. He is, and fee he brings the Mayor along.
Enter the Lord Mayor and Catesby.

Buck. Lord Mayor

Glo. Look to the Draw-bridge there.

Buck. Hark, a Drum.

Gle. Catesby, o'erlook the Walls.

Buck. Lord Mayor, the reafon we have fent
Glo. Look back, defend there, here are Enemies.
Buck. God and our Innocency defend and guard us.
Enter Lovel and Ratcliff with Haftings's Head.
Gla. Be patient, they are Friends; Ratcliff and Lovel.
Lov. Here is the Head of that ignoble Traitor,
The dangerous and unfufpected Haftings.

Glo. So dear I lov'd the Man that I muft weep:
I took him for the plaineft harmless Creature
That breath'd upon the Earth, a Chriftian:
Made him my Book, wherein my Soul recorded
The Hiftory of all her fecret Thoughts;

So fmooth he daub'd his Vice with fhew of Virtue,
That his apparent open Guilt omitted,

I mean his Conversation with Shore's Wife,

He liv'd from all attainder of füfpects.

Buck. Well, well, he was the covert'ft fhelter'd Traitor That ever lived.

Would you imagine, or almoft believe,
Wer't not, that by great prefervation
We live to tell it, that the fubtle Traitor
This Day had plotted, in the Council-House,
To murther me and my good Lord of Glofter.
Mayor. Had he done fo?

Glo. What! think you we are Turks or Infidels?
Or that we would, against the form of Law,
Proceed thus rafhly in the Villain's Death,
But that the extream peril of the Cafe,
The Peace of England, and our Perfons fafety
Enforc'd us to this Execution.

Mayor. Now fair befall you, he deferv'd his death,
And your good Graces both have well proceeded,
To warn falfe Traitors from the like Attempts.
Buck. I never look'd for better at his Hands,
After he once fell in with Mistress Shore:
Yet had we not determin'd he fhould die
Until your Lordship came to fee his end,
Which now the loving hafte of thefe our Friends,
Something againft our meanings hath prevented;
Becaufe, my Lord, I would have had you heard
The Traitor fpeak, and timorously confefs
The manner and the purpose of his Treafons:
That you might well have fignify'd the fame
Unto the Citizens, who haply may,
Mifconftrue us in him, and wail his Death.

Mayor. Bu, my good Lord, your Grace's Words fhall

As well as I had feen and heard him speak:

And do not doubt, right Noble Princes both,

But I'll acquaint our duteous Citizens,

With all your juft Proceedings in this Cafe.

[ferve,

Glo. And to that end we wifh'd your Lordfhip here, T'avoid the Cenfures of the carping World.

Buck. Which fince you come too late of our intent,

Yet witness what you hear we did intend:

And fo, my good Lord Mayor, we bid farewel. [Ex. Mayor.

Glo.

Glo. Go after, after, Coufin Buckingham.
The Mayor towards Guild Hall hies him in all poft:
There, at your meeteft vantage of the time,
Infer the Baftardy of Edward's Children,
Tell them, how Edward put to death a Citizen,
Only for faying he would make his Son
Heir to the Crown, meaning indeed his House,
Which by the Sign thereof was termed fo.
Moreover, urge his hateful Luxury,

And beftial appetite in change of Luft,

Which ftretch'd unto their Servants, Daughters, Wives, Even where his raging Eye, or favage Heart,

Without controll, lufted to make a prey.

Nay, for a need, thus far come near my Perfon:
Tell them, when that my Mother went with Child
Of that infatiate Edward, Noble York,

My Princely Father then had Wars in France,
And by true Computation of the Time,
Found that the Iffue was not his begot:
Which well appeared in his Lireaments,
Being nothing like the Noble Duke, my Father:
Yet touch this fparingly as 'twere far off,
Becaufe, my Lord, you know my Mother lives.
Buck. Doubt not, my Lord, I'll play the Orator
As if the Golden Fee, for which I plead,

Were for my felf; and fo, my Lord, adieu.

Glo. If you thrive well, bring them to Baynard's Caftle, Where you fhall find me, well accompanied With reverend Fathers, and well-learned Bishops. Buck. I go, and towards three or four a Clock Look for the News that the Guild-Hall affords.

[Exit Buckingham.

[To Ratel ff. [Exeunt.

Glo. Go, Lovel, with all speed to Doctor Shaw,
Go thou to Friar Beuker, bid them both
Meet me within this hour at Baynard's Caftle.
Now will I go to take fome privy Order
To draw the Brats of Clarence out of fight,
And to give order, that no manner of Perfon
Have any time recourfe unto the Princes.

[Exit.

Enter

Enter a Scrivener.

Scriv. Here is the Indictment of the good Lord Haftings, Which in a fet Hand fairly is engrofs'd, That it may be to Day read o'er in Paul's. And mark how well the fequel hangs together: Eleven hours I have spent to write it over, For yefternight by Catesby was it fent me, The Precedent was full as long a doing, And yet within thefe five hours Haftings liv'd, Untainted, unexamin'd, free, at liberty. Here's a good World the while; who is fo grofs That cannot fee this palpable Device? Yet who fo bold, but fays, he fees it not? Bad is the World, and all will come to nought, When fuch ill dealing must be feen in thought.

[Exit.

Enter Gloucester and Buckingham at feveral Doors. Glo. How now, how now, what fay the Citizens? Buck. Now by the holy Mother of our Lord,

The Citizens are mum, fay not a word.

Glo. Touch'd you the Baftardy of Edward's Children? Buck. I did, with his Contract with Lady Lucy, And his Contract by Deputy in France. Th' unfatiate greedinefs of his defire, And his enforcement of the City Wives, His Tyranny for Trifles, his own Bastardy, As being got, your Father then in France, And his refemblance, being not like the Duke. Withal, I did infer your Lineaments, Being the right Idea of your Father, Both in your Form and Nobleness of Mind: Laid open all your Victories in Scotland, Your Difcipline in War, Wisdom in Peace, Your Bounty, Virtue, fair Humility: Indeed left nothing fitting for your Purpose Untoucht, or flightly handled in Difcourfe. And when my Oratory grew toward end, I bid them that did love their Country's good, Cry, God fave Richard, England's Royal King. Glo. And did they fo?

Buck No, fo God help me, they fpake not a Word, But like dumb Statues or unbreathing Stones,

Star'd