Rich. Art thou indeed?
Tyr. Proue me, my gracious Lord
Rich. Dar'st thou resolue to kill a friend of mine?
Tyr. Please you:
But I had rather kill two enemies
Rich. Why then thou hast it: two deepe enemies,
Foes to my Rest, and my sweet sleepes disturbers,
Are they that I would haue thee deale vpon:
Tyrrel, I meane those Bastards in the Tower
Tyr. Let me haue open meanes to come to them,
And soone Ile rid you from the feare of them
Rich. Thou sing'st sweet Musique:
Hearke, come hither Tyrrel,
Goe by this token: rise, and lend thine Eare,
Whispers.
There is no more but so: say it is done,
And I will loue thee, and preferre thee for it
Tyr. I will dispatch it straight.
Enter.
Enter Buckingham.
Buck. My Lord, I haue consider'd in my minde,
The late request that you did sound me in