Here is the head of that ignoble traitor

Lovell
Here is the head of that ignoble traitor,
The dangerous and unsuspected Hastings.
Richard
So dear I loved the man that I must weep.
I took him for the plainest harmless creature
That breathed upon the Earth a Christian;
Made him my book, wherein my soul recorded
The history of all her secret thoughts.
So smooth he daubed his vice with show of virtue
That, his apparent open guilt omitted—
I mean his conversation with Shore’s wife—
He lived from all attainder of suspects.

I took him for the plainest harmless creature
That breathed upon the Earth a Christian;
Made him my book, wherein my soul recorded
The history of all her secret thoughts.

Buckingham
Well, well, he was the covert’st sheltered traitor
That ever lived.—
Would you imagine, or almost believe,
Were ’t not that by great preservation
We live to tell it, that the subtle traitor
This day had plotted, in the council house,
To murder me and my good lord of Gloucester?
Mayor
Had he done so?
Richard
What, think you we are Turks or infidels?
Or that we would, against the form of law,
Proceed thus rashly in the villain’s death,
But that the extreme peril of the case,
The peace of England, and our persons’ safety
Enforced us to this execution?
Mayor
Now fair befall you! He deserved his death,
And your good Graces both have well proceeded
To warn false traitors from the like attempts.