Who fued to me for him? Who (in my wrath)
Kneel'd and my feet, and bid me be aduis'd?
Who spoke of Brother-hood? who spoke of loue?
Who told me how the poore foule did forfake
The mighty Warwicke, and did fight for me?
Who told me in the field at Tewkesbury,
When Oxford had me downe, he refcued me:
And faid deare Brother liue, and be a King?
Who told me, when we both lay in the Field,
Frozen (almost) to death, how he did lap me
Euen in his Garments, and did giue himselfe
(All thin and naked) to the numbe cold night?
All this from my Remembrance, brutish wrath
Sinfully pluckt, and not a man of you
Had fo much grace to put it in my minde.
But when your Carters, or your wayting Vaffalls
Haue done a drunken Slaugher, and defac'd
The precious Image of our deere Redeemer,

You ftraight are on your knees for Pardon, pardon,
And I (vniuftly too) muft grant it you.
But for my Brother, not a man would speake,
Nor I (vngracious) fpeake vnto my felfe
For him poore Soule. The proudest of you all,
Haue bin beholding to him in his life:

Yet none of you, would onee begge for his life.
O God! I feare thy iuftice will take hold
On me, and you; and mine, and yours for this.
Come Haftings helpe me to my Cloffet.
Ah poore Clarence.

Exeunt fome with K.& Queen.
Rich. This is the fruits of rafhnes: Markt you not,
How that the guilty Kindred of the Queene
Look'd pale, when they did heare of Clarence death.
O! they did vrge it ftill vnto the King,

God will reuenge it. Come Lords will you go,
To comfort Edward with our company.
Buc. We wait vpon your Grace.

Scena Secunda.

Enter the old Dutcheffe of Yorke, with the two children of Clarence.

exeunt.

Edw. Good Grandam tell vs, is our Father dead?
Dutch. No Boy.

Daugh. Why do weepe fo oft? And beate your Breft? And cry, O Clarence, my vnhappy Sonne.

Boy. Why do you looke on vs, and shake your head, And call vs Orphans, Wretches, Caftawayes,

If that our Noble Father were aliue?

Dut. My pretty Cofins, you mistake me both,

I do lament the fickneffe of the King,

As loath to lofe him, not your Fathers death:

It were loft forrow to waile one that's loft.

Boy. Then you conclude, (my Grandam) he is dead: The King mine Vnckle is too blame for it. God will reuenge it, whom I will importune With earnest prayers, all to that effect.

Daugh. And fo will I.

Dut. Peace children peace, the King doth loue you wel. Incapeable, and fhallow Innocents,

You cannot gueffe who caus'd your Fathers death.

Boy. Grandam we can: for my good Vnkle Glofter

Told me, the King prouok'd to it by the Queene,
Deuis'd impeachments to imprifon him;
And when my Vnckle told me fo, he wept,
And pittied me, and kindly kist my cheeke:
Bad me rely on him, as on my Father,

And he would loue me deerely as a childe.

Dut. Ah! that Deceit fhould fteale fuch gentle shape, And with a vertuous Vizor hide deepe vice. He is my fonne, I, and therein my shame,

Yet from my dugges, he drew not this deceit.

Boy. Thinke you my Vnkle did diffemble Grandam? Dut. I Boy.

Boy. I cannot thinke it. Hearke, what noife is this?

Enter the Queene with her baire about her ears,
Riuers & Dorfet after her.

Qu. Ah who fhall hinder me to waile and weepe?
To chide my Fortune, and torment my Selfe.
Ile ioyne with blacke difpaire against my Soule,
And to my felfe, be come an enemie.

Dut. What meanes this Scene of rude impatience?
Qu. To make an act of Tragicke violence.
Edward my Lord, thy Sonne, our King is dead.
Why grow the Branches, when the Roote is gone?
Why wither not the leaues that want their fap?
If you will liue, Lament: if dye, be breefe,

That our fwift-winged Soules may catch the Kings,
Or like obedient Subiects follow him,

To his new Kingdome of nere-changing night.

Dut. Ah fo much intereft haue in thy forrow,

As I had Title in thy Noble Husband:

I haue be wept a worthy Husbands death,
And liu'd with looking on his Images:

But now two Mirrors of his Princely femblance,
Are crack'd in pieces, by malignant death,
And I for comfort, haue but one falfe Glaffe,
That greeues me, when I fee my fhame in him.

Thou art a Widdow: yet thou art a Mother,

And haft the comfort of thy Children left,

But death hath fnatch'd my Husband from mine Armes,
And pluckt two Crutches from my feeble hands,
Clarence, and Edward. O, what cause haue I,
(Thine being but a moity of my moane)

To ouer-go thy woes, and drowne thy cries.
Boy. Ah Aunt! you wept not for our Fathers death:
How can we ayde you with our Kindred teares ?
Daugh. Our fatherleffe diftreffe was left vnmoan'd,
Your widdow-dolour, likewife be vnwept.

Qu. Giue me no helpe in Lamentation,

I am not barren to bring forth complaints:
All Springs reduce their currents to mine eyes,
That I being gouern'd by the waterie Moone,
May fend forth plenteous teares to drowne the World.
Ah, for my Husband, for my deere Lord Edward.
Chil. Ah for our Father, for our deere Lord Clarence.
Dut. Alas for both, both mine Edward and Clarence.
Qu. What ftay had I but Edward, and hee's gone?
Chil. What stay had we but Clarence? and he's gone.
Dut. What stayes had I, but they? and they are gone.
Qu. Was neuer widdow had fo deere a loffe.
Chil. Were neuer Orphans had fo deere a loffe.
Dut. Was neuer Mother had fo deere a loffe.
Alas! I am the Mother of these Greefes,
Their woes are parcell'd, mine is generall.
She for an Edward weepes, and fo do I:

I

I for a Clarence weepes, fo doth not shee:
Thefe Babes for Clarence weepe, fo do not they.
Alas! you three, on me threefold diftreft:
Power all your teares, I am your forrowes Nurse,
And I will pamper it with Lamentation.

Dor. Comfort deere Mother, God is much difpleas'd,
That you take with vnthankfulneffe his doing.
In common worldly things, 'tis call'd vngratefull,
With dull vnwillingneffe to repay a debt,
Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent:
Much more to be thus oppofite with heauen,
For it requires the Royall debt it lent you.

Riuers. Madam, bethinke you like a carefull Mother Of the young Prince your fonne: fend ftraight for him, Let him be Crown'd, in him your comfort liues. Drowne defperate forrow in dead Edwards graue, And plant your ioyes in liuing Edwards Throne.

Enter Richard, Buckingham, Derbie, Ha-
Alings, and Ratcliffe.

Rich. Sifter haue comfort, all of vs haue caufe
To waile the dimming of our fhining Starre :
But none can helpe our harmes by wayling them.
Madam, my Mother, I do cry you mercie,

I did not fee your Grace. Humbly on my knee,

I craue your Bleffing.

Dut. God bleffe thee, and put meeknes in thy breast,

Loue Charity, Obedience, and true Dutie.

Rich. Amen, and make me die a good old man, That is the butt-end of a Mothers bleffing;

I maruell that her Grace did leaue it out.

Buc. You clowdy-Princes, & hart-forowing-Peeres,
That beare this heauie mutuall loade of Moane,
Now cheere each other, in each others Loue:
Though we haue spent our Harueft of this King,
We are to reape the Harueft of his Sonne.

The broken rancour of your high-fwolne hates,
But lately fplinter'd, knit, and ioyn'd together,
Muft gently be preferu'd, cherisht, and kept:
Me feemeth good, that with fome little Traine,
Forthwith from Ludlow, the young Prince be fet
Hither to London, to be crown'd our King.

Riuers. Why with fome little Traine,

My Lord of Buckingham?

Buc. Marrie my Lord, leaft by a multitude,

The new-heal'd wound of Malice fhould breake out,
Which would be fo much the more dangerous,

By how much the eftate is greene, and yet vngouern'd.
Where euery Horfe beares his commanding Reine,
And may direct his courfe as please himfelfe,

As well the feare of harme, as harme apparant,
In my opinion, ought to be preuented.

Rich. I hope the King made peace with all of vs,
And the compact is firme, and true in me.

Riu. And fo in me, and fo (I thinke) in all.
Yet fince it is but greene, it fhould be put
To no apparant likely-hood of breach,
Which haply by much company might be vrg'd :
Therefore I fay with Noble Buckingham,
That it is meete fo few fhould fetch the Prince.
Haft. And fo fay I.

Rich. Then be it fo, and go we to determine

Manet Buckingham, and Richard.

Buc. My Lord, who euer iournies to the Prince,
For God fake let not vs two ftay at home:
For by the way, Ile fort occafion,

As Index to the story we late talk'd of,

To part the Queenes proud Kindred from the Prince.
Rich. My other felfe, my Coun failes Confiftory,
My Oracle, My Prophet, my deere Cofin,

I, as a childe, will go by thy direction,

Toward London then, for wee'l not stay behinde. Exeunt

3.

1. No, no, by Gods good grace, his Son fhall reigne. Woe oe to that Land that's gouern'd by a Childe. 2. In him there is a hope of Gouernment, Which in his nonage, counsell vnder him, And in his full and ripened yeares, himselfe No doubt fhall then, and till then gouerne well. 1. So ftood the State, when Henry the fixt Was crown'd in Paris, but at nine months old.

3. Stood the State fo? No, no, good friends, God wot For then this Land was famously enrich'd With politike graue Counfell; then the King Had vertuous Vnkles to protect his Grace.

1. Why fo hath this, both by his Father and Mother. 3. Better it were they all came by his Father:

Or by his Father there were none at all:

For emulation, who shall now be neerest,
Will touch vs all too neere, if God preuent not.

O full of danger is the Duke of Gloufter,

And the Queenes Sons, and Brothers, haught and proud: And were they to be rul'd, and not to rule,

This fickly Land, might folace as before.

1. Come, come, we feare the worst: all will be well. 3. When Clouds are feen, wifemen put on their clokes; When great leaues fall, then Winter is at hand; When the Sun fets, who doth not looke for night? Vntimely ftormes, makes men expect a Dearth: All may be well; but if God fort it fo, 'Tis more then we deferue, or I expect.

2. Truly, the hearts of men are full of feare: You cannot reafon (almost) with a man, That lookes not heauily, and full of dread.

3. Before the dayes of Change, ftill is it fo, By a diuine instinct, mens mindes mistrust

Enfuing

Arch. Last night I heard they lay at Stony Stratford, And at Northampton they do reft to night: To morrow, or next day, they will be heere.

Dut. I long with all my heart to fee the Prince :

I hope he is much growne fince last I saw him.
Qu. But I heare no, they say my fonne of Yorke
Ha's almoft ouertane him in his growth.

Yorke. I Mother, but I would not haue it fo.
Dut. Why my good Cofin, it is good to grow.
Yor. Grandam, one night as we did fit at Supper,
My Vnkle Riuers talk'd how I did grow

More then my Brother. I, quoth my Vnkle Gloufter,
Small Herbes haue grace, great Weeds do grow apace.
And fince, me thinkes I would not grow so fast,
Because sweet Flowres are flow, and Weeds make haft.
Dut. Good faith, good faith, the faying did not hold
In him that did obiect the fame to thee.
He was the wretched'ft thing when he was yong,
So long a growing, and fo leyfurely,
That if his rule were true, he should be gracious.

Yer. And fo no doubt he is, my gracious Madam.
Dut. I hope he is, but yet let Mothers doubt.
Yor. Now by my troth, if I had beene remembred,
I could haue giuen my Vnkles Grace, a flout,
To touch his growth, neerer then he toucht mine.
Dut. How my yong Yorke,

I prythee let me heare it.

Tor. Marry (they say) my Vnkle grew so fast,
That he could gnaw a cruft at two houres old,
'Twas full two yeares ere I could get a tooth.
Grandam, this would haue beene a byting Ieft.

Dut. I prythee pretty Yorke, who told thee this?
Yor. Grandam, his Nurffe.

Dut. His Nurfe? why the was dead, ere y wast borne.
for. If'twere not fhe, I cannot tell who told me.
Qu. A parlous Boy:go too, you are too fhrew'd.
Dut. Good Madam, be not angry with the Childe.
Qu. Pitchers haue eares.

Enter a Messenger.

Arch. Heere comes a Meffenger: What Newes?
Mef. Such newes my Lord, as greeues me to report.
Qu. How doth the Prince ?

Mef. Well Madam, and in health.
Dut. What is thy Newes?

Me. Lord Riuers, and Lord Grey,

Are fent to Pomfret, and with them,

Sir Thomas Vaughan, Prisoners.

Dut. Who hath committed them?

Mes. The mighty Dukes, Gloufter and Buckingham.

Arch. For what offence?

Mef. The fumme of all I can, I haue disclos'd : Why, or for what, the Nobles were committed, Is all vnknowne to me, my gracious Lord.

Qu. Aye me! I fee the ruine of my House:
The Tyger now hath feiz'd the gentle Hinde,
Infulting Tiranny beginnes to Iutt

Vpon the innocent and aweleffe Throne:
Welcome Deftruction, Blood, and Maffacre,
I fee (as in a Map) the end of all.

Dut. Accurfed, and vnquiet wrangling dayes,
How many of you haue mine eyes beheld?
My Husband loft his life, to get the Crowne,
And often vp and downe my fonnes were tost
For me to ioy, and weepe, their gaine and loffe.
And being feated, and Domefticke broyles
Cleane ouer-blowne, themfelues the Conquerors,
Make warre vpon themfelues, Brother to Brother;
Blood to blood, felfe against felfe: O prepoftorous
And franticke outrage, end thy damned fpleene,
Or let me dye, to looke on earth no more.
Qu. Come, come my Boy, we will to Sanctuary.
Madam, farwell.
with you.

Dut. Stay, I will

go

Qu. You haue no caufe.

Arch. My gracious Lady go,

And thether beare your Treasure and your Goodes,
For my part, Ile refigne vnto your Grace
The Seale I keepe, and fo betide to me,
As well I tender you, and all of yours.
Go, Ile conduct you to the Sanctuary.

Exeunt

Buc. Welcome fweete Prince to London, To your Chamber.

Rich. Welcome deere Cofin, my thoughts Soueraign The wearie way hath made you Melancholly. Prin. No Vnkle, but our croffes on the way, Haue made it tedious, wearifome, and heauie.

I want more Vnkles heere to welcome me.

Rich. Sweet Prince, the vntainted vertue of your yeers Hath not yet diu'd into the Worlds deceit :

No more can you distinguish of a man,

Then of his outward fhew, which God he knowes,
Seldome or neuer iumpeth with the heart.

Thofe Vnkles which you want, were dangerous

Your Grace attended to their Sugred words,

But look'd not on the poyfon of their hearts:

God keepe you from them, and from fuch falfe Friends. Prin. God keepe me from falfe Friends,

But they were none.

I thought my Mother, and my Brother Yorke, Would long, ere this, haue met vs on the way. Fie, what a Slug is Haftings, that he comes not To tell vs, whether they will come, or no.

Enter Lord Haftings.

Buck. And in good time, heere comes the fweating

Lord.

Prince. Welcome, my Lord: what, will our Mother come?

Haft. On what occafion God he knowes, not I;}
The Queene your Mother, and your Brother Yorke,
Haue taken Sanctuarie: The tender Prince
Would faine haue come with me, to meet your Grace,
But by his Mother was perforce with-held.

Buck. Fie, what an indirect and peeuish course
Is this of hers? Lord Cardinall, will your Grace
Perfwade the Queene, to fend the Duke of Yorke
Vnto his Princely Brother prefently?

If the denie, Lord Hastings goe with him,
And from her jealous Armes pluck him perforce.
Card. My Lord of Buckingham, if my weake Oratorie
Can from his Mother winne the Duke of Yorke,
Anon expect him here: but if the be obdurate

To milde entreaties, God forbid

We should infringe the holy Priuiledge

Of bleffed Sanctuarie: not for all this Land,

Would I be guiltie of fo great a finne.

Buck. You are too fenceleffe obftinate, my Lord,

Too ceremonious, and traditionall.

Weigh it but with the groffeneffe of this Age,
You breake not Sanctuarie, in feizing him:
The benefit thereof is alwayes granted

To thofe, whofe dealings haue deferu'd the place,
And those who haue the wit to clayme the place :
This Prince hath neyther claym'd it, nor deferu'd it,
And therefore, in mine opinion, cannot haue it.
Then taking him from thence, that is not there,
You breake no Priuiledge, nor Charter there:
Oft haue I heard of Sanctuarie men,

But Sanctuarie children, ne're till now.

Card. My Lord, you fhall o're-rule my mind for once. Come on, Lord Haftings, will you goe with me?

Haft. I goe, my Lord. Exit Cardinall and Haftings.
Prince.Good Lords, make all the speedie haft you may.
Say, Vnckle Glocefter, if our Brother come,
Where fhall we foiourne, till our Coronation?

Glo. Where it think'ft beft vnto your Royall felfe.
If I may counfaile you, fome day or two
Your Highneffe shall repofe you at the Tower:
Then where you pleafe, and fhall be thought moft fit
For your best health, and recreation.

Prince. I doe not like the Tower, of any place :
Did Iulius Cæfar build that place, my Lord?

Buck. He did, my gracious Lord, begin that place,
Which fince, fucceeding Ages haue re-edify'd.
Prince. Is it vpon record? or else reported
Succeffiuely from age to age, he built it?

Buck. Vpon record, my gracious Lord.

Prince. But fay, my Lord, it were not registred, Me thinkes the truth fhould liue from age to age, As 'twere retayl'd to all pofteritie,

Euen to the generall ending day.

Glo. So wife, fo young, they fay doe neuer liue long.
Prince. What say you, Vnckle?

Glo. I fay, without Characters, Fame liues long. Thus, like the formall Vice, Iniquitie,

I morallize two meanings in one word.

Prince. That Iulius Cæfar was a famous man,
With what his Valour did enrich his Wit,
His Wit fet downe, to make his Valour liue:
Death makes no Conqueft of his Conqueror,
For now he liues in Fame, though not in Life.
Ile tell you what, my Coulin Buckingham.
Buck. What, my gracious Lord?

Prince. And if I liue vntill I be a man,
Ile win our ancient Right in France againe,
Or dye a Souldier, as I liu'd a King.

Glo. Short Summers lightly haue a forward Spring.

Enter young Yorke, Haftings, and Cardinall.

Buck. Now in good time, heere comes the Duke of Yorke.

Prince. Richard of Yorke, how fares our Noble Brother?

Yorke. Well, my deare Lord, fo muft I call you now.
Prince. I, Brother, to our griefe, as it is yours:

Too late he dy'd, that might haue kept that Title,
Which by his death hath loft much Maiestie.

Glo. How fares our Coufin, Noble Lord of Yorke?
Yorke. I thanke you, gentle Vnckle. O my Lord,
You faid, that idle Weeds are faft in growth:
The Prince, my Brother, hath out-growne me farre.
Glo. He hath, my Lord.

Yorke. And therefore is he idle?

Glo. Oh my faire Coufin, I must not say so.
Yorke. Then he is more beholding to you, then I.
Glo. He may command me as my Soueraigne,
But
you haue
power in me, as in a Kinsman.
Yorke. I pray you, Vnckle, give me this Dagger.
Glo. My Dagger, little Coufin? with all my heart.
Prince. A Begger, Brother?

Yorke Of my kind Vnckle, that I know will giue,
And being but a Toy, which is no griefe to giue.
Glo. A greater gift then that, Ile giue my Coufin.
Yorke. A greater gift? O, that's the Sword to it.
Glo. I, gentle Coufin, were it light enough.
Yorke. O then I fee, you will part but with light gifts,
In weightier things you'le fay a Begger nay.

Glo. It is too weightie for your Grace to weare.
Yorke. I weigh it lightly, were it heauier.

Glo. What, would you haue my Weapon, little Lord? Yorke. I would that I might thanke you, as, as, you call me.

Glo. How?

Yorke. Little.

Prince. My Lord of Yorke will still be croffe in talke: Vnckle, your Grace knowes how to beare with him. Yorke. You meane to beare me, not to beare with me: Vnckle, my Brother mockes both you and me, Because that I am little, like an Ape,

He thinkes that you should beare me on your fhoulders. Buck. With what a sharpe prouided wit he reasons : To mittigate the fcorne he giues his Vnckle,

He prettily and aptly taunts himselfe:

So cunning, and fo young, is wonderfull.

Glo. My Lord, wilt please you paffe along?
My felfe, and my good Coufin Buckingbam,
Will to your Mother, to entreat of her
To meet you at the Tower, and welcome you.

Yorke. What,

Yorke. What, will you goe vnto the Tower, my Lord?
Prince. My Lord Protector will haue it fo.
Yorke. I fhall not fleepe in quiet at the Tower.
Glo. Why, what should you feare?

Yorke. Marry, my Vnckle Clarence angry Ghost:
My Grandam told me he was murther'd there.
Prince. I feare no Vnckles dead.

Glo. Nor none that liue, I hope.

Prince. And if they liue, I hope I need not feare. But come my Lord and with a heauie heart, Thinking on them, goe I vnto the Tower.

A Senet. Exeunt Prince, Yorke, Haftings, and Dorfet.

Manet Richard, Buckingham, and Catesby.

Buck. Thinke you, my Lord, this little prating Yorke
Was not incenfed by his fubtile Mother,
To taunt and fcorne you thus opprobriously?

Glo. No doubt, no doubt: Oh 'tis a perillous Boy,
Bold, quicke, ingenious, forward, capable :
Hee is all the Mothers, from the top to toe.

Buck. Well, let them reft: Come hither Catesby,
Thou art fworne as deepely to effect what we intend,
As closely to conceale what we impart :

Thou know'ft our reafons vrg'd vpon the way.
What think'st thou ? is it not an eafie matter,
To make William Lord Haftings of our minde,
For the installment of this Noble Duke

In the Seat Royall of this famous Ile?

Cates. He for his fathers fake fo loues the Prince, That he will not be wonne to ought against him.

Buck What think'st thou then of Stanley? Will not hee?

Cates. Hee will doe all in all as Haftings doth.
Buck. Well then, no more but this:

Goe gentle Catesby, and as it were farre off,
Sound thou Lord Hastings,

How he doth stand affected to our purpose,
And fummon him to morrow to the Tower,
To fit about the Coronation.

If thou do'ft finde him tractable to vs,
Encourage him, and tell him all our reafons:
If he be leaden, ycie, cold, vnwilling,
Be thou fo too, and fo breake off the talke,
And giue vs notice of his inclination :
For we to morrow hold diuided Councels,
Wherein thy felfe fhalt highly be employ'd.

Rich. Commend me to Lord William: tell him Catesby,
His ancient Knot of dangerous Aduerfaries
To morrow are let blood at Pomfret Caftle,
And bid my Lord, for ioy of this good newes,
Giue Miftreffe Shore one gentle Kiffe the more.

Buck. Good Catesby, goe effect this bufineffe foundly.
Cates. My good Lords both, with all the heed I can.
Rich. Shall we heare from you, Catesby, ere we fleepe?
Cates. You fhall, my Lord.

Rich. At Crosby House, there fhall you find vs both.
Exit Catesby.

Buck. Now, my Lord,

What shall wee doe, if wee perceiue
Lord Haftings will not yeeld to our Complots?
Rich. Chop off his Head:

Something wee will determine:

And looke when I am King, clayme thou of me The Earledome of Hereford, and all the moueables Whereof the King, my Brother, was poffeft.

Enter Lord Haftings.

Hast. Cannot my Lord Stanley fleepe thefe tedious Nights?

Me. So it appeares, by that I haue to say: First, he commends him to your Noble felfe. Haft. What then?

M. Then certifies your Lordship, that this Night
He dreamt, the Bore had rafed off his Helme:
Befides, he fayes there are two Councels kept;
And that may be determin'd at the one,
Which may make you and him to rue at th'other.
Therefore he fends to know your Lordships pleasure,
If you will presently take Horfe with him,

And with all speed poft with him toward the North,
To fhun the danger that his Soule diuines.

Hast. Goe fellow, goe, returne vnto thy Lord,
Bid him not feare the feperated Councell:
His Honor and my felfe are at the one,
And at the other, is my good friend Catesby;
Where nothing can proceede, that toucheth vs,
Whereof I fhall not haue intelligence :

Tell him his Feares are fhallow, without inftance.
And for his Dreames, I wonder hee's fo fimple,
To trust the mock'ry of vnquiet flumbers.
To flye the Bore, before the Bore pursues,
Were to incenfe the Bore to follow vs,
And make purfuit, where he did meane no chafe.
Goe, bid thy Mafter rife, and come to me,
And we will both together to the Tower,
Where he shall fee the Bore will vse vs kindly.
Meff. Ile goe, my Lord, and tell him what you fay.
Exit.
Enter Catesby.

Cates. Many good morrowes to my Noble Lord.
Haft. Good morrow Catesby, you are early stirring:
What newes, what newes, in this our tott'ring State?
Cates. It is a reeling World indeed, my Lord:
And I beleeue will neuer stand vpright,

Till Richard weare the Garland of the Realme.
Haft. How weare the Garland?

Doeft thou meane the Crowne?

Cates. I, my good Lord.

Haft. Ile haue this Crown of mine cut fro my fhoulders, Before Ile fee the Crowne fo foule mif-plac'd:

But canft thou gueffe, that he doth ayme at it?

Cates. I,