Or else his head's assurance is but frail.
Stan. So deal with him as I prove true to you.
Exit Stanley.
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. My gracious sovereign, now in Devonshire,
As I by friends am well advertised, 500
Sir Edward Courtney, and the haughty prelate,
Bishop of Exeter, his elder brother,
With many moe confederates are in arms.
Enter another Messenger.
[Sec.] Mess. In Kent, my liege, the Guildfords are in arms; 504
And every hour more competitors
Flock to the rebels, and their power grows strong.
Enter another Messenger.
[Third] Mess. My lord, the army of great Buckingham—
K. Rich. Out on ye, owls! nothing but songs of death? 508
He striketh him.
There, take thou that, till thou bring better news.
[Third] Mess. The news I have to tell your majesty
Is, that by sudden floods and fall of waters,
Buckingham's army is dispers'd and scatter'd; 512
And he himself wander'd away alone,
No man knows whither.
K. Rich. I cry thee mercy:
There is my purse, to cure that blow of thine.
Hath any well-advised friend proclaim'd 516
Reward to him that brings the traitor in?
497 assurance: safety
501 Sir Edward Courtney; cf. n.
502 Bishop of Exeter; cf. n.
503 moe: more
504 the Guildfords; cf. n.
505 competitors: associates
508 owls . . . death; cf. n.
513 Cf. n.
