Catesby: Many good morrows to my noble lord.

​

Hastings: Good morrow, Catesby. You are early stirring.

   What news, what news, in this our tott'ring state?

​

Catesby: It is a reeling world indeed, my lord,

   And I believe with never stand upright 

   Till Richard wear the garland of the realm.

​

Hastings: How, wear the garland? Dost thou mean the crown?

​

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 twelvemonth 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 is vile thing to die, my gracious lord,

   When men are unprepared and look not for it.

​

Hastings: Oh, monstrous, monstrous! And so falls it out

   With Rivers, Vaughn, 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 Buckingham.

​

Catesby: The princes both make high account of you.

   [Aside] For they account his head upon the bridge.

​

Hastings: I know they do, and I have well deserved it.