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 taken that nobleman's eldest son as a surety for his fidelity?— K. Rich. Go, muster men: But, hear you, leave behind Your son, George Stanley: Look your heart be firm, Or else his head's assurance is but frail: —

And further,—is not Richard much more alarmed by a mere distrust of his officers, than Macbeth is, on seeing himself really deserted? K. Rich. What thinkest thou? Will our friends prove all true?

Rat. No doubt, my lord.

K. Rich. Ratcliff, I fear, I fear.—