Lord Stanley

Ely
Where is my lord the Duke of Gloucester?
I have sent for these strawberries.
Hastings
His Grace looks cheerfully and smooth this morning.
There’s some conceit or other likes him well
When that he bids good morrow with such spirit.

I think there’s never a man in Christendom
Can lesser hide his love or hate than he,
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Stanley, to Anne
Come, madam, come. I in all haste was sent.
Anne
And I with all unwillingness will go.
O, would to God that the inclusive verge
Of golden metal that must round my brow
Were red-hot steel to sear me to the brains!
Anointed let me be with deadly venom,
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Richmond
God and your arms be praised, victorious friends!
The day is ours; the bloody dog is dead.
Stanley, offering him the crown
Courageous Richmond, well hast thou acquit thee.
Lo, here this long-usurpèd royalty
From the dead temples of this bloody wretch
Have I plucked off, to grace thy brows withal.
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