Rich. Well, let that rest: Dorset is fled to Richmond
Buck. I heare the newes, my Lord
Rich. Stanley, hee is your Wiues Sonne: well, looke
vnto it
Buck. My Lord, I clayme the gift, my due by promise,
For which your Honor and your Faith is pawn'd,
Th' Earledome of Hertford, and the moueables,
Which you haue promised I shall possesse
Rich. Stanley looke to your Wife: if she conuey
Letters to Richmond, you shall answer it
Buck. What sayes your Highnesse to my iust request?
Rich. I doe remember me, Henry the Sixt
Did prophecie, that Richmond should be King,
When Richmond was a little peeuish Boy.
A King perhaps
Buck. May it please you to resolue me in my suit
Rich. Thou troublest me, I am not in the vaine.
Enter
Buck. And is it thus? repayes he my deepe seruice
With such contempt? made I him King for this?
O let me thinke on Hastings, and be gone
To Brecnock, while my fearefull Head is on.
Enter.
Enter Tyrrel.