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Test3

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KING RICHARD III:
Tut, tut, thou art all ice, thy kindness freezeth:
Say, have I thy consent that they shall die?
BUCKINGHAM:
Give me some breath, some little pause, my lord
Before I positively herein:
I will resolve your grace immediately.
CATESBY:
KING RICHARD III:
I will converse with iron-witted fools
And unrespective boys: none are for me
That look into me with considerate eyes:
High-reaching Buckingham grows circumspect.
Boy!
Page:
My lord?
KING RICHARD III:
Know'st thou not any whom corrupting gold
Would tempt unto a close exploit of death?
Page:
My lord, I know a discontented gentleman,
Whose humble means match not his haughty mind:
Gold were as good as twenty orators,
And will, no doubt, tempt him to any thing.
KING RICHARD III:
What is his name?
Page:
His name, my lord, is Tyrrel.
KING RICHARD III:
I partly know the man: go, call him hither.
The deep-revolving witty Buckingham
No more shall be the neighbour to my counsel:
Hath he so long held out with me untired,
And stops he now for breath?
How now! what news with you?
STANLEY:
My lord, I hear the Marquis Dorset's fled
To Richmond, in those parts beyond the sea
Where he abides.
KING RICHARD III:
Catesby!
CATESBY:
My lord?
KING RICHARD III:
Rumour it abroad
That Anne, my wife, is sick and like to die:
I will take order for her keeping close.
Inquire me out some mean-born gentleman,
Whom I will marry straight to Clarence' daughter:
The boy is foolish, and I fear not him.
Look, how thou dream'st! I say again, give out
That Anne my wife is sick and like to die:
About it; for it stands me much upon,
To stop all hopes whose growth may damage me.
I must be married to my brother's daughter,
Or else my kingdom stands on brittle glass.
Murder her brothers, and then marry her!
Uncertain way of gain! But I am in
So far in blood that sin will pluck on sin:
Tear-falling pity dwells not in this eye.
Is thy name Tyrrel?
TYRREL:
James Tyrrel, and your most obedient subject.
KING RICHARD III:
Art thou, indeed?
TYRREL:
Prove me, my gracious sovereign.
KING RICHARD III:
Darest thou resolve to kill a friend of mine?
TYRREL:
Ay, my lord;
But I had rather kill two enemies.
KING RICHARD III:
Why, there thou hast it: two deep enemies,
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.
TYRREL:
Let me have open means to come to them,