K. Rich.
Stand all apart—cousin of Buckingham—

Buck.
My gracious Soveraign!

K. Rich.
Give me thy hand. Thus high, by thy advice,
And thy assistance, is King Richard seated:
But shall we wear these glories for a day?
Or shall they last, and we rejoice in them?

Buck.
Still live they, and for ever let them last.

K. Rich.
Ah Buckingham, now do I play the touch,
To try if thou be currant gold indeed:
Young Edward lives—think now what I would speak.

Buck.
Say on, my loving lord.

K. Rich.
Why, Buckingham, I say I would be King.

Buck.
Why so you are, my thrice renowned Liege.

K. Rich.
Ha! am I a King? 'tis so—but Edward lives—

Buck.
True, noble Prince.

K. Rich.
O bitter consequence!
That Edward still should live true noble Prince.
Cousin, thou wert not wont to be so dull.
Shall I be plain? I wish the bastards dead,
And I would have it suddenly perform'd.
What say'st thou now? speak suddenly, be brief.

Buck.
Your Grace may do your pleasure.

K. Rich.
Tut, tut, thou art all ice, thy kindness freezes:
Say, have I thy consent that they shall die?

Buck.
Give me some breath, some little pause, dear lord,
Before I positively speak in this:
I will resolve your Grace immediately. [Exit Buckingham.

Cates.
The King is angry, see he gnaws his lip.

K. Rich.
I will converse with iron-witted fools,
And unrespective boys; none are for me,
That look into me with consid'rate eyes.
High-reaching Buckingham grows circumspect.
Boy.

Page.
My lord.

K. Rich.
Know'st thou not any, whom corrupting gold
Would tempt unto a close exploit of death?

Page.
I know a discontented gentleman,
Whose humble means match not his haughty spirit:
Gold were as good as twenty orators,
And will, no doubt, tempt him to any thing.

K. Rich.
What is his name?

Page.
His name, my lord, is Tirrel.

K. Rich.
I partly know the man; go call him hither, [Exit Boy.
The deep-revolving witty Buckingham
No more shall be the neighbour to my counsels.
Hath he so long held out with me untir'd,
And stops he now for breath? well, be it so. Enter Stanley.
How now, lord Stanley, what's the news?

Stan.
My lord,
The Marquiss Dorset, as I hear, is fled
To Richmond, in the parts where he abides.

K. Rich.
Come hither, Catesby; rumour it abroad,
That Anne my wife is sick, and like to die.
I will take order for her keeping close.
Inquire me out some mean-born gentleman,
Whom I will marry strait to Clarence' daughter—
(The boy is foolish, and I fear not him.)
Look how thou dream'st—I say again, give out,
That Anne my Queen is sick, and like to die.
About it; for it stands me much upon
To stop all hopes, whose growth may damage me.
I must be married to my brother's daughter,
Or else my kingdom stands on brittle glass:
Murther her brothers, and then marry her!
Uncertain way of gain! but I am in
So far in blood, that sin will pluck on sin.
Tear-falling pity dwells not in this eye. Enter Tirrel.
Is thy name Tirrel?

Tir.
James Tirrel, and your most obedient subject.

K. Rich.
Art thou indeed? [He takes him aside.

Tir.
Prove me, my gracious lord.

K. Rich.
Dar'st thou resolve to kill a friend of mine?

Tir.
Please you, I'd rather kill two enemies.

K. Rich.
Why then thou hast it; two deep enemies,
Foes to my rest, and my sweet sleep's disturbers,
Are they that I would have thee deal upon;
Tirrel, I mean those bastards in the Tower.

Tir.
Let me have open means to come to them,
And soon I'll rid you from the fear of them.

K. Rich.
Thou sing'st sweet musick. Hark, come hither Tirrel,
Go by this token—rise, and lend thine ear— [Whispers.
There is no more but so—say it is done,
And I will love thee and prefer thee for it.

Tir.
I will dispatch it strait. [Exit. Re-enter Buckingham.

Buck.
My lord, I have consider'd in my mind
That late demand that you did sound me in.

K. Rich.
Well, let that rest; Dorset is fled to Richmond.

Buck.
I hear the news, my lord.

K. Rich.
Stanley, he is your wife's son; well, look to it.

Buck.
My lord, I claim the gift, my due by promise,
For which your honour and your faith is pawn'd;
Th' Earldom of Hereford, and the moveables,
Which you have promised I shall possess.

K. Rich.
Stanley, look to your wife; if she convey
Letters to Richmond, you shall answer it.

Buck.
What says your Highness to my just request?

K. Rich.
I do remember me—Henry the Sixth
Did prophesie, that Richmond should be King,
When Richmond was a little peevish boy.

A King perhaps—† ^note

Buck.
My lord.

K. Rich.
How chance the Prophet could not at that time
Have told me, I being by, that I should kill him?

Buck.
My lord, your promise for the Earldom—

K. Rich.
Richmond? when I was last at Exeter
The Mayor in curtesie shewed me the castle,
And call'd it Rouge-mont, at which name I started,
Because a bard of Ireland told me once,
I should not live long after I saw Richmond.

Buck.
My lord.

K. Rich.
I, what's a clock?

Buck.
I am thus bold to put your Grace in mind
Of what you promis'd me.

K. Rich.
But what's a clock?

Buck.
Upon the stroke of ten.

K. Rich.
Well, let it strike.

Buck.
Why let it strike?

K. Rich.
Because that like a Jack thou keep'st the stroke
Betwixt thy begging and my meditation.
I am not in the giving vein to-day.

Buck.
Why then resolve me if you will or no.

K. Rich.
Thou troublest me, I am not in the vein. [Exit.

Buck.
Is it ev'n so? repays he my deep service
With such contempt? made I him King for this?
O let me think on Hastings, and be gone
To Brecnock, while my fearful head is on. [Exit.

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