Tyr. James Tyrrel, and your most obedient subject.
K. Rich. Art thou, indeed?
[70] Tyr. Prove me, my gracious sovereign.
K. Rich. Darest thou resolve to kill a friend of mine?
[♦] Tyr. Ay, my lord;
[♦] But I had rather kill two enemies.
[♦] K. Rich. Why, there thou hast it: two deep enemies,
[75] Foes to my rest and my sweet sleep’s disturbers
Are they that I would have thee deal upon:
Tyrrel, I mean those bastards in the Tower.