Part 12 (1/2)

GLOUCESTER. I pray you all, tell me what they deserve That do conspire my death with devilish plots Of d.a.m.ned witchcraft, and that have prevail'd Upon my body with their h.e.l.lish charms?

HASTINGS. The tender love I bear your Grace, my lord, Makes me most forward in this princely presence To doom th' 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 bewitch'd; behold, mine arm Is like a blasted sapling wither'd up.

And this is Edward's wife, that monstrous witch, Consorted with that harlot strumpet Sh.o.r.e, That by their witchcraft thus have marked me.

HASTINGS. If they have done this deed, my n.o.ble lord- GLOUCESTER. If?-thou protector of this d.a.m.ned 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, LOVEL, and RATCLIFF 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 foot-cloth horse did stumble, And started when he look'd upon the Tower, As loath to bear me to the slaughter-house.

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 butcher'd, 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 G.o.d!

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 b.l.o.o.d.y Richard! Miserable England!

I prophesy the fearfull'st time to thee That ever wretched age hath look'd upon.

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

They smile at me who shortly shall be dead. Exeunt

SCENE 5.

London. The Tower-walls

Enter GLOUCESTER and BUCKINGHAM in rotten armour, marvellous ill-favoured

GLOUCESTER. Come, cousin, canst thou quake and change thy colour, Murder thy breath in middle of a word, And then again begin, and stop again, As if thou were distraught and mad with terror?

BUCKINGHAM. Tut, I can counterfeit the deep tragedian; Speak and look back, and pry on every side, Tremble and start at wagging of a straw, Intending deep suspicion. Ghastly looks Are at my service, like enforced smiles; And both are ready in their offices At any time to grace my stratagems.

But what, is Catesby gone?

GLOUCESTER. He is; and, see, he brings the mayor along.

Enter the LORD MAYOR and CATESBY

BUCKINGHAM. Lord Mayor- GLOUCESTER. Look to the drawbridge there!

BUCKINGHAM. Hark! a drum.

GLOUCESTER. Catesby, o'erlook the walls.

BUCKINGHAM. Lord Mayor, the reason we have sent- GLOUCESTER. Look back, defend thee; here are enemies.

BUCKINGHAM. G.o.d and our innocence defend and guard us!

Enter LOVEL and RATCLIFF, with HASTINGS' head