Think you, my lord, this little prating York

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,
Encourage him and tell him all our reasons.
If he be leaden, icy, cold, unwilling,
Be thou so too, and so break off the talk,

Buckingham
Well, let them rest.—Come hither, Catesby.
Thou art sworn as deeply to effect what we intend
As closely to conceal what we impart.
Thou knowest our reasons, urged upon the way.
What thinkest thou? Is it not an easy matter
To make William Lord Hastings of our mind
For the installment of this noble duke
In the seat royal of this famous isle?
Catesby
He, for his father’s sake, so loves the Prince
That he will not be won to aught against him.
Buckingham
What think’st thou then of Stanley? Will not he?
Catesby
He will do all in all as Hastings doth.
Buckingham
Well then, no more but this: go, gentle Catesby,
And, as it were far off, sound thou Lord Hastings
How he doth stand affected to our purpose
And summon him tomorrow to the Tower
To sit about the coronation.
If thou dost find him tractable to us,
Encourage him and tell him all our reasons.
If he be leaden, icy, cold, unwilling,
Be thou so too, and so break off the talk,
And give us notice of his inclination;
For we tomorrow hold divided councils,
Wherein thyself shalt highly be employed.