STANLEY

God make your Majesty joyful, as you have been I do beseech you, either not believe The envious slanders of her false Accusers: Or if she be accused on true report, Bear with her weakness, which I think proceeds From wayward sickness, and no grounded malice. But now the Duke of Buckingham and I, Are come from visiting his Majesty. A boon my Sovereign for my service done. I will not rise, unless your Highness hear me. The forfeit (Sovereign) of my servants life, Who slew to day a Riotous Gentleman, Lately attendant on the Duke of Norfolk. Sir Christopher, tell Richmond this from me, That in the stye of the most deadly Boar, My Son George Stanley is frankt up in hold: If I revolt, off goes young Georges head, The fear of that, holds off my present aid. So get thee gone: commend me to thy Lord. Withal say, that the Queen hath heartily consented He should espouse Elizabeth his daughter. But tell me, where is Princely Richmond now? What men of Name resort to him. Well hie thee to thy Lord: I kiss his hand, My Letter will resolve him of my mind. Farewell. Fortune, and Victory fit on thy Helm. I by Attourney, bless thee from thy Mother, Who prays continually for Richmond's good: So much for that. The silent hours steal on, And flaky darkness breaks within the East. In brief, for so the season bids us be, Prepare thy Battle early in the Morning, And put thy Fortune to the Arbitrement Of bloody strokes, and mortal staring War: I, as I may, that which I would I cannot, With best advantage will deceive the time, And aid thee in this doubtful shock of Arms. But on thy side I may not be too forward, Least being seen, thy Brother, tender George Be executed in his Father's sighed. Farewell: the leisure, and the fearful time Cuts off the ceremonious Vows of Love, And ample interchange of sweet Discourse, Which so long sundered Friends should dwell upon: God give us leisure for these rites of Love. Once more Adieu, be valiant, and speed well. Courageous Richmond, Well hast thou acquit thee: Lo, Here these long usurped Royalties, From the dead Temples of this bloody Wretch, Have I plucked off, to grace thy Brows withal. Wear it, and make much of it. He is my Lord, and safe in Leicester Town, Whither (if you please) we may withdraw us. John Duke of Norfolk, Walter Lord Ferris, Sir Robert Brokenbury, and Sir William Brandon. It is, and wants but nomination. We have not yet set down this day of Triumph: To morrow, in my judgement, is too sudden, For I my self am not so well provided, As else I would be, were the day prolonged. What of his Heart perceive you in his Face, By any livelihood he showed to day? My Lord good morrow, good morrow Catesby: You may jest on, but by the holy Rood, I do not Like these several Counsels, I. Richmond is on the Seas. I know not, mighty Sovereign, but by guess. Stirred up by Dorset, Buckingham, and Morton, He makes for England, here to claim the Crown. Unless for that, my Liege, I cannot guess. No, my good Lord, therefore mistrust me not. No, my good Lord, my friends are in the North. They have not been commanded, mighty King: Pleases your Majesty to give me leave, I'll muster up my friends, and meet your Grace, Where, and what time your Majesty shall please. Most mighty Sovereign, You have no cause to hold my friendship doubtful, I never was, nor never will be false. So deal with him, as I prove true to you. The Lords at Pomfret when ̄ they road from London, Were jocund, and supposed their states were sure, And they indeed had no cause to mistrust: But yet you see, how soon the Day overcast. This sudden stab of Rancour I misdoubt: Pray God (I say) I prove a needless Coward. What, shall we towards the Tower? the day is spent. They, for their truth, might better wear their Heads, Then some that have accused them, wear their Hats. But come, my Lord, let's away. None, good my Liege, to please you with y e hearing, Nor none so bade, but well may be reported. Let me but meet you Ladies one hour hence, And I'll salute your Grace of York as Mother, And reverend looker on of two fair Queens, Come Madame, you must straight to Westminster, There to be crowned Richard's Royal Queen. Full of wise care, is this your counsel, Madame: Take all the swift advantage of the hours: You shall have Letters from me to my Son, In your behalf, to meet you on the way: Be not taken tardy by unwise delay. Come, Madame, come, I in all haste was sent. Know my loving Lord, the Marquess Dorset As I hear, is fled to Richmond, In the parts where he abides.