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DioLiu
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Test3

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63
To-morrow are let blood at Pomfret-castle;
And bid my friend, for joy of this good news,
Give mistress Shore one gentle kiss the more.
BUCKINGHAM:
Good Catesby, go, effect this business soundly.
CATESBY:
My good lords both, with all the heed I may.
GLOUCESTER:
Shall we hear from you, Catesby, ere we sleep?
CATESBY:
You shall, my lord.
GLOUCESTER:
At Crosby Place, there shall you find us both.
BUCKINGHAM:
Now, my lord, what shall we do, if we perceive
Lord Hastings will not yield to our complots?
GLOUCESTER:
Chop off his head, man; somewhat we will do:
And, look, when I am king, claim thou of me
The earldom of Hereford, and the moveables
Whereof the king my brother stood possess'd.
BUCKINGHAM:
I'll claim that promise at your grace's hands.
GLOUCESTER:
And look to have it yielded with all willingness.
Come, let us sup betimes, that afterwards
We may digest our complots in some form.
Messenger:
What, ho! my lord!
HASTINGS:
Messenger:
A messenger from the Lord Stanley.
HASTINGS:
What is't o'clock?
Messenger:
Upon the stroke of four.
HASTINGS:
Cannot thy master sleep these tedious nights?
Messenger:
So it should seem by that I have to say.
First, he commends him to your noble lordship.
HASTINGS:
And then?
Messenger:
And then he sends you word
He dreamt to-night the boar had razed his helm:
Besides, he says there are two councils held;
And that may be determined at the one
which may make you and him to rue at the other.
Therefore he sends to know your lordship's pleasure,
If presently you will take horse with him,
And with all speed post with him toward the north,
To shun the danger that his soul divines.
HASTINGS:
Go, fellow, go, return unto thy lord;
Bid him not fear the separated councils
His honour and myself are at the one,
And at the other is my servant Catesby
Where nothing can proceed that toucheth us
Whereof I shall not have intelligence.
Tell him his fears are shallow, wanting instance:
And for his dreams, I wonder he is so fond
To trust the mockery of unquiet slumbers
To fly the boar before the boar pursues,
Were to incense the boar to follow us
And make pursuit where he did mean no chase.
Go, bid thy master rise and come to me
And we will both together to the Tower,
Where, he shall see, the boar will use us kindly.
Messenger:
My gracious lord, I'll tell him what you say.
CATESBY:
Many good morrows to my noble lord!
HASTINGS:
Good morrow, Catesby; you are early stirring
What news, what news, in this our tottering state?
CATESBY: