Why stay'st thou here, and go'st not to the duke? Cate. First, mighty liege, tell me your highness' pleasure, What from your grace I shall deliver to him. The greatest strength and power he can make, Cate. I go. [Exit. Rat. What, may it please you, shall I do at Salisbury? K. Rich. Why, what would'st thou do there, Rat. Your highness told me, I should post before. K. Rich. My mind is chang'd.Stanley, what Stan. None good, my liege, to please you with the hearing; Nor none so bad, but well may be reported. R. Rich. Heyday, a riddle! neither good nor bad! What need'st thou run so many miles about, When thou may'st tell thy tale the nearest way? Once more, what news? Stan. Richmond is on the seas. K. Rich. There let him sink, and be the seas on him! White-liver'd runagate, what doth he there? Stan. Stirr'd up by Dorset, Buckingham, and He makes for England, here to claim the crown. K. Rich. Is the chair empty? is the sword unsway'd? Is the king dead? the empire unpossess'd? Then, tell me, what makes he upon the seas? Stan. Unless for that, my liege, I cannot guess. K. Rich. Unless for that he comes to be your liege, You cannot guess wherefore the Welshman comes. Thou wilt revolt, and fly to him, I fear. Stan. No, mighty liege; therefore mistrust me not, K. Rich. Where is thy power then, to beat him back? Where be thy tenants, and thy followers? K. Rich. Cold friends to me: what do they in the north, When they should serve their sovereign in the west? Stan. They have not been commanded, mighty king: Pleaseth your majesty to give me leave, I'll muster up my friends; and meet your grace, Where, and what time, your majesty shall please. K. Rich. Ay, ay, thou would'st be gone to join with Richmond: I will not trust you, sir. Stan. Most mighty sovereign, You have no cause to hold my friendship doubtful; I never was, nor never will be, false. K. Rich. Well, go, muster men. But, hear you, leave behind Your son, George Stanley; look your heart be firm, Or else his head's assurance is but frail. Stan. So deal with him, as I prove true to you. [Exit Stanley. Enter a Messenger. Mess. My gracious sovereign, now in Devonshire, As I by friends am well advértised, Sir Edward Courtney, and the haughty prelate, With many more confederates, are in arms. Enter another Messenger. 2 Mess. In Kent, my liege, the Guildfords are in arms; And every hour more competitors! Flock to the rebels, and their power grows strong. Enter another Messenger. 3 Mess. My lord, the army of great Buckingham death? K. Rich. Out on ye, owls! nothing but songs of [He strikes him. There, take thou that, till thou bring better news. 3 Mess. The news I have to tell your majesty, Is,-that, by sudden floods and fall of waters, Buckingham's army is dispers'd and scatter'd; And he himself wander'd away alone, No man knows whither. K. Rich. O, I cry you mercy: There is my purse, to cure that blow of thine. Hath any well-advised friend proclaim'd Reward to him that brings the traitor in? 3 Mess. Such proclamation hath been made, my liege. Enter another Messenger. 4 Mess. Sir Thomas Lovel, and lord marquis Dorset, 'Tis said, my liege, in Yorkshire are in arms. Hois'd sail, and made his course again for Bretagne. (1) Associates.. K. Rich. March on, march on, since we are up in arms; If not to fight with foreign enemies, Yet to beat down these rebels here at home. Enter Catesby. Cate. My liege, the duke of Buckingham is taken, That is the best news; That the earl of Richmond Is, with a mighty power,1 landed at Milford, Is colder news, but yet they must be told. K. Rich. Away, towards Salisbury; while we reason here, A royal battle might be won and lost :- me: That, in the sty of this most bloody boar, Stan. What men of name resort to him? Stan. Well, hie thee to thy lord; commend me to him; (1) Force. (2) Chaplain to the countess of Richmond. (3) A sty in which hogs are set apart for fattening. Tell him, the queen hath heartily consented [Gives papers to Sir Christopher. [Exeunt. ACT V. SCENE 1-Salisbury. An open place. Enter the Sheriff, and Guard, with Buckingham, led to execution. Buck. Will not king Richard let me speak with him? Sher. No, my good lord; therefore be patient. Holy king Henry, and thy fair son Edward, Buck. Why, then All-Souls' day is my body's doomsday. This is the day, which, in king Edward's time, (1) Injurious practices. |