HASTINGS.
How, wear the garland? Dost thou mean the crown?
CATESBY.
Ay, my good lord.
HASTINGS.
I’ll have this crown of mine cut from my shoulders
Before I’ll see the crown so foul misplaced.
But canst thou guess that he doth aim at it?
CATESBY.
Ay, on my life, and hopes to find you forward
Upon his party for the gain thereof;
And thereupon he sends you this good news,
That this same very day your enemies,
The kindred of the Queen, must die at Pomfret.
HASTINGS.
Indeed, I am no mourner for that news,
Because they have been still my adversaries.
But that I’ll give my voice on Richard’s side
To bar my master’s heirs in true descent,
God knows I will not do it, to the death.
CATESBY.
God keep your lordship in that gracious mind.
HASTINGS.
But I shall laugh at this a twelve-month hence,
That they which brought me in my master’s hate,
I live to look upon their tragedy.
Well, Catesby, ere a fortnight make me older
I’ll send some packing that yet think not on’t.
CATESBY.
’Tis a vile thing to die, my gracious lord,
When men are unprepared and look not for it.
HASTINGS.
O monstrous, monstrous! And so falls it out
With Rivers, Vaughan, Grey; and so ’twill do
With some men else that think themselves as safe
As thou and I, who, as thou know’st, are dear
To princely Richard and to Buckingham.
CATESBY.
The Princes both make high account of you—
[Aside.] For they account his head upon the Bridge.