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Say, have I thy consent that they shall die?

Buck. Give me some little breath, some pause, dear lord,

Before I positively speak in this:

I will resolve you herein presently.

Cate. [Aside to another.] The king is angry: see, he gnaws his lip.

K. Rich. [Descends from his throne.] I will converse with iron-witted fools

And unrespective boys: none are for me

That look into me with considerate eyes.

High-reaching Buckingham grows circumspect.

Boy!

Page. My lord!

K. Rich. Know'st thou not any whom corrupting gold

Will tempt unto a close exploit of death?

Page. I know a discontented gentleman,

Whose humble means match not his haughty spirit:

Gold were as good as twenty orators,

And will, no doubt, tempt him to anything.

K. Rich. What is his name?

Page. His name, my lord, is Tyrrell.

K. Rich. I partly know the man: go, call him hither, boy.

The deep-revolving, witty Buckingham

No more shall be the neighbour to my counsels.

Hath he so long held out with me, untir'd,

And stops he now for breath? well, be it so.

How now, Lord Stanley! what's the news?

 26 resolve you: give you a definite answer

29 unrespective: heedless

31 High-reaching: ambitious

35 close: secret

exploit: deed

40 Cf. n.

42 deep-revolving: profoundly considering

witty: cunning

