Catesby

Buckingham, to Richard
Think you, my lord, this little prating York
Was not incensèd by his subtle mother
To taunt and scorn you thus opprobriously?
Richard
No doubt, no doubt. O, ’tis a parlous boy,
Bold, quick, ingenious, forward, capable.
He is all the mother’s, from the top to toe.

If thou dost find him tractable to us,
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Hastings
What news, what news in this our tott’ring state?
Catesby
It is a reeling world indeed, my lord,
And I believe will never stand upright
Till Richard wear the garland of the realm.
Hastings
How “wear the garland”? Dost thou mean the crown?
Catesby
Ay, my good lord.
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Richard
Cousin, thou wast not wont to be so dull.
Shall I be plain? I wish the bastards dead,
And I would have it suddenly performed.
What sayst thou now? Speak suddenly. Be brief.
Buckingham
Your Grace may do your pleasure.

I know a discontented gentleman
Whose humble means match not his haughty spirit.
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Catesby
Rescue, my lord of Norfolk, rescue, rescue!
The King enacts more wonders than a man,
Daring an opposite to every danger.

A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse!

His horse is slain, and all on foot he fights,
Seeking for Richmond in the throat of death.
Rescue, fair lord, or else the day is lost.
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