Puslapio vaizdai
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Enter a Scrivener.
Scriv. Here is the Indi&ment of the good Lord Haftings,
Which in a set Hand fairly is engrossid,
That it may be to day read o'er in Panl's.
And mark how well the sequel hangs together:
Eleven hours I have spent to write it over,
For yesternight by Catesby was it sent me,
The Precedent was full as long a doing,
And yet within these five hours Hastings liv’d,
Untainted, unexamin’d, free, at liberty.
Here's a good World the while; who is so gross
That cannot see this palpable Device?
Yet who so bold, but says, he sees it not?
Bad is the World, and all will come to nought,
When such ill dealing must be seen in thought. [Exit.

Enter Gloucester and Buckingham at several Doors.
Glo. How now, how now, what say the Citizens?

Buck. Now by the holy Mother of our Lord,
The Citizens are mum, fay not a word.

Glo. Touch'd you the Bastardy of Edward's Children

Buck. I did, with his Contra, with Lady Lucy,
And his Contrae by Deputy in France.
Th’unsatiate greediness of his desire,
And his enforcement of the City Wives,
His Tyranny for Trifles, his own Bastardy,
As being got, your Father then in France,
And his resemblance, 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 Viâories in Scotland,
Your Discipline in War, Wisdom, in Peace,
Your Bounty, Virtue, fair Humility :
Indeed Icft nothing fitting for your Purpose
Untoucht, or Nighily handled in Discourse.
And when my Oratory grew toward end,
I bid them that did love their Country's good,
Cry, God save Richard, England's Royal King.

Glo. And did they so?

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

Star'd

1

Star'd each on other, and look'd deadly pale:
Which when I saw, I reprehended them,
And ask'd the Mayor, what meant this wilful Gilence?
His answer was, the People were not used
To be spoke to, but by the Recorder.
Then he was urg'd to tell my Tale again:
Thus faith the Duke, thus hath the Duke inferi'd,
But nothing spoke in warrant from himself.
When he had done, some Followers of mine own,
At lower end of the Hall, hurl'd up their Caps,
And some ten Voices cry'd, God save King Richard:
And thus I took the vantage of those few.
Thanks, gentle Citizens and Friends, quoth I,
This general Applause, and chearful Shout,
Argues your Wildom, and your love to Richard;
And even here brake off and came away.

Glo. What Tongue-less Blocks were they,
Would they not speak?
Will not the Mayor then and his Brethren come?

Buck. The Mayor is here at hand; intend some fear,
Be not you spoke with, but by mighty suit;
And look you get a Prayer-Book in your Hand,

:
And stand between two Churchmen, good my Lord,
For on that ground I'll make a holy Descant:
And be not easily won to our Requests,
Play the Maid's part, still answer nay, and take it.

Glo. I go : And if you plead as well for thein,
As I can say nay to thee for my self,
No doubt we bring it to a happy Issue. (Ex. Glo.
Buck. Go, go up to the Leads, the Lord Mayor knocks.

Enter Lord Mayor and Citizens.
Welcome my Lord, I dance attendance here,
I think the Duke will not be spoke withal.

Enter Catesby.
Buck. Now Catesby, what says your Lord to my Request?

Cates. He doth intreat your Grace, my Noble Lord,
To visít him to Morrow, or next Day:
He is within, with two right Reverend Fathers,
Divinely bent to Meditation,
And in no worldly Suits would he be mov'd,
To draw him from his holy Exercise.

Buck.

Buck. Return, good Catesby, to the gracious Duke,
Tell him, my self, the Mayor and Aldermen,
In deep Deligns, in matter of great Moment,
No less importing than our general Good,
Are come to have some conference with his Grace.

Cates. I'll signifie so much unto him straight. [Exit.

Buck. Ah ha, my Lord, this Prince is not an Edward, He is not lulling on a lew'd Love-Bed, But on his Knees at Meditation : Not dallying with a Brace of Curtizans, But meditating with two deep Divines : Not sleeping, to engross his idle Body, But praying, to enrich his watchful soul. Happy were England, would this virtuous Prince Take on his Grace the Soveraignty thereof. But sure I fear we shall not win him to it.

Mayor. Marry, God defend, his Grace should say us nay. Buck. I fear he will; here Catesby comes again.

Enter Catesby.
Now Catesby, what says his Grace

Cates. He wonders to what end you have assembled
Such Troops of Citizers to come to him,
His Grace not being warn’d thereof before:
He fears, my Lord, you mean no good to him.

Buck. Sorry I am, my noble Cousin fhould
Sufpe& me, that I mean no good to him:
By Heav'n, we come to him in perfe& Love,
And so once more return, and tell his Grace. [Exit Catesby.
When holy and devout Religious Men
Are at their Beads, 'tis much to draw them thence,
So sweet is zealous Contemplation.

Enter Gloucester aboven between two Bishops.
Mayor. See where his Grace stands 'tween two Clergymen.

Buck. Two Props of Virtue, for a Christian Prince,
To stay him from the fall of Vanity:
And see a Book of Prayer in his Hand,
True Ornaments to know a holy Man.
Famous Plantagenet, most gracious Prince,
Lend favourable Ear to our requests,
And pardon us the interruption
Of thy Devotion and right Christian Zeal.

Glo.

Glo. My Lord, there needs no such Apology;
I do beseech your Grace to pardon me,
Who earnest in the Service of th' high God,
Deferr'd the Visitation of my Friends.
But leaving this, what is your Grace's pleasure?

Buck. Even that, I hope, which pleaseth God above,
And all good Men, of this ungovernd Ille.

Glo. I do suspe& I have done some offence,
That seems disgracious in the City's Eye,
And that you come to reprehend my Ignorance.

Buck. You have, my Lord.
Would it might please your Grace,
On our entreaties to amend your Fault. ,

Glo. Else wherefore breathe I in a Christian Land.

Buck. Know then, it is your Fault that you refign
The Supream Seat, the Throne Majestica),
The Sceptred Office of your Ancestors,
Your State of Fortune, and your due of Birth,
The Lineal Glory of your Royal House,
To the corruption of a blemish d Stock;
Whiles in the mildness of your sleepy Thoughts,
Which here we waken to our Country's good,
The noble Isle doth want his proper Limbs:
His Face defac'd with skars of Infamy,
His Royal Stock graft with ignoble Plants,
And almost shouldred in the swallowing Gulf
Of dark Forgetfulness, and deep Oblivion.
Which to re-cure, we heartily follicit
Your gracious self to take on you the charge
And Kingly Government of this your Land:
Not as Protector, Steward, Substitute,
Or lowly Fa&or, for another's gain;
But as Succellively, from Blood to Blood,
Your right of Birth, your Empiry, your own.
For this, consorted with the Citizens,
Your very Worshipful and loving Friends,
And by their vehement Instigation,
In this just Cause come I to move your Grace.

Glo. I cannot tell, if to depart in silence,
Or bitterly to speak in your reproof,

a

Beft

Best fitteth my Degree, or your Condition.
For not to answer, you might haply think
Tongue-cy'd Ambition, not replying, yielded
To bear the Golden Yoak of Soveraignty,
Which fondly you would bere impose on me.
If to reprove you for this suit of yours,
So fearon'd with

your

faithful Love to me,
Then on the other side I check'd my Friends.
Therefore to speak, and to avoid the first,
And then in speaking, not to incur the last,
Definitively thus I answer you.
Your Love deserves my thanks, but my desert

,
Unmeritable, shuns your high request.
First, if all Obstacles were cut away,
And that my Path were even to the Crown,
As the ripe Revenue, and due of Birth;
Yer so much is my poverty of Spirit,
So mighty, and to many my Defeats,
Triat I would rather hide me from my Greatness,
Being a Bark to brook no mighty Sea;
Than in my Greatness covet to be hid,
And in the vapour of my Glory smother'd.
But God be thank'd, there is no need of me,
And much I need to help you, were there need:
The Royal Tree hath left us Royal Fruit,
Which mellow'd by the stealing hours of time,
Will well become the seat of Majesty,
And make us, no doubt, happy by his Reign.
On him I lay that, you would lay on me,
The Right and Fortune of his happy Stars,
Which God defend that I should wring from him.
Buck. My Lord, this argues Conscience in

your Grace,
But the respe&s thereof are nice, and trivial,
All Circumstances well considered.
You say, that Edward is your Brother's Son,
So say we too, but not by Edward's Wife:
For first was he contract to Lady Lucy,
Your Mother lives a Witness to his Vow,
And afterward by Substitute betroth'd
To Bona, Sister to the King of France.
These both put off, a poor Pecitioner,

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