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

Is all things ready for the royal time?

Stanley

It is, and wants but nomination.

Ely

To-morrow, 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 delivered

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. Enter GLOUCESTER.

Ely

In happy time, here comes the duke himself.

Gloucester

My noble lords and cousins all, good morrow.

I have been long a sleeper; but, I trust,

My absence doth neglect no great designs,

Which by my presence might have been concluded.

Buckingham

Had you not come upon your cue, my lord,

William Lord Hastings had pronounced your part, —

I mean, your voice, — for crowning of the king.

Gloucester

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.

Gloucester

Cousin of Buckingham, a word with you. Drawing 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. Exit Gloucester, Buckingham following.

Stanley

We have not yet set down this day of triumph.

To-morrow, in my judgement, is too sudden;

For I myself am not so well provided

As else I would be, were the day prolonged. Re-enter BISHOP OF ELY.

Ely

Where is my lord, the Duke of Gloucester? 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 never 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.

Stanley

I pray God he be not, I say. Re-enter GLOUCESTER and BUCKINGHAM.

Gloucester

I pray you all, tell me what they deserve

That do conspire my death with devilish plots

Of damned witchcraft, and that have prevailed

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 deserved death.

Gloucester

Then be your eyes the witness of their evil:

Look how I am bewitched; behold mine arm

Is, like a blasted sapling, withered up:

And this is Edward's wife, that monstrous witch,

Consorted with that harlot strumpet Shore,

That by their witchcraft thus have marked me.

Hastings

If they have done this deed, my noble lord, —

Gloucester

If! thou protector of this damned 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.

Lovel and Ratcliff, look that it be done:

The rest, that love me, rise and follow me. Exeunt all but Hastings, Ratcliff, and Lovel.

Hastings

Woe, woe for England! not a whit for me;

For I, too fond, might have prevented this.

Stanley did dream the boar did raze our helms;

And I did scorn it and disdain to fly:

Three times to-day my footcloth horse did stumble,

And started, when he looked upon the Tower,

As loath to bear me to the slaughterhouse.

O, now I need the priest that spake to me:

I now repent I told the pursuivant,

As too triumphing how mine enemies,

to-day at Pomfret bloodily were butchered,

And I myself secure in grace and favour.

O Margaret, Margaret, now thy heavy curse

Is lighted on poor Hastings' wretched head!

Ratcliff

Come, come, dispatch; the duke would be at dinner:

Make a short shrift; he longs to see your head.

Hastings

O momentary grace of mortal men,

Which we more hunt for than the grace of God!

Who builds his hope in air of your good looks,

Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast,

Ready, with every nod, to tumble down

Into the fatal bowels of the deep.

Lovel

Come, come, dispatch; 'tis bootless to exclaim.

Hastings

O bloody Richard! miserable England!

I prophesy the fearfull'st time to thee

That ever wretched age hath looked upon.

Come, lead me to the block; bear him my head.

They smile at me who shortly shall be dead. Exeunt.