Buck. My lord,

K. Rich.

Ay, what's o'clock?

Buck. I am thus bold to put your grace in

mind

Of what you promised me.

K. Rich.

Well, but what's o'clock?

Well, let it strike.

Buck. Upon the stroke of ten.

K. Rich.

Buck. Why, let it strike?

K. Rich. Because that, like a Jack, thou keep'st the stroke

Betwixt thy begging and my meditation.
I am not in the giving vein to-day.

Buck. Why, then resolve me whether you will,

or no.

K. Rich. Thou troublest me; I am not in the vein. [Exeunt KING RICHARD and Train. Buck. And is it thus? repays he my deep ser

vice

With such contempt? made I him king for this?
O, let me think on Hastings; and be gone
To Brecknock, while my fearful head is on.

[Exit.

SCENE III.-The same.

Enter TYRREL.

Tyr. The tyrannous and bloody act is done; The most arch deed of piteous massacre That ever yet this land was guilty of. Dighton and Forrest, whom I did suborn To do this piece of ruthless butchery, Albeit they were flesh'd villains, bloody dogs, Melting with tenderness and mild compassion, Wept like to children, in their death's sad story.

O thus, quoth Dighton, lay the gentle babes,—
Thus, thus, quoth Forrest, girdling one another
With n their alabaster innocent arms:

Their lips were four red roses on a stalk,
And, in their summer beauty, kiss'd each other.
A book of prayers on their pillow lay:

Which once, quoth Forrest, almost changed my mind:

But, 0, the devil—there the villain stopp'd;
When Dighton thus told on,-we smothered
The most replenished sweet work of Nature,
That, from the prime creation, e'er she framed.-
Hence both are gone with conscience and re-
morse;

They could not speak and so I left them both,
To bear this tidings to the bloody king.

And here he comes:

Enter KING RICHARD.

All health, my sovereign lord!

K. Rich. Kind Tyrrel! am I happy in thy news?

Tyr. If to have done the thing you gave in charge

Beget your happiness, be happy then,

For it is done.

K. Rich.

But didst thou see them dead?

Tyr. I did, my lord.

K. Rich.

And buried, gentle Tyrrel? Tyr. The chaplain of the Tower hath buried

them;

But where, to say the truth, I do not know.

K. Rich. Come to me, Tyrrel, soon at after

supper,

When thou shalt tell the process of their death. Meantime, but think how I may do thee good,

And be inheritor of thy desire.
Farewell till then.

Tyr.

I humbly take my leave.

[Exit.

K. Rich. The son of Clarence have I pent up

close;

His daughter meanly have I match'd in marriage;
The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham's bosom ;
And Annie my wife hath bid this world good
night.

Now, for I know the Bretagne Richmond aims
At young Elizabeth, my brother's daughter,
And, by that knot, looks proudly on the crown,
To her go I, a jolly thriving wooer.

Rat. My lord!

Enter RATCLIFF.

K. Rich. Good or bad news, that thou com'st in so bluntly?

Rat. Bad news, my lord: Morton has fled to Richmond;

And Buckingham, back d with the hardy Welsh

men,

Is in the field, and still his power increaseth.

K. Rich. Ely with Richmond troubles me

more near

Than Buckingham and his rash-levied strength.
Come, --I have learn'd that fearful commenting
Is leaden servitor to dull delay;

Delay leads impotent and snail-paced beggary:
Then fiery expedition be my wing,

Jove's Mercury, and herald for a king!
Go, muster men: my counsel is my shield;
We must be brief when traitors brave the field.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV. London. Before the Palace.

Enter QUEEN Margaret.

2. Mar. So, now prosperity begins to mellow, And drop into the rotten mouth of death. Here in these confines slily have I lurk'd, To watch the waning of mine enemies. A dire induction am I witness to,

And will to France; hoping the consequence Will prove as bitter, black, and tragical.— Withdraw thee, wretched Margaret! who comes here?

Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH and the DUCHESS OF YORK.

2. Eliz. Ah, my poor princes! ah, my tender babes!

My unblown flowers, new-appearing sweets!
If yet your gentle souls fly in the air,
And be not fix'd in doom perpetual,
Hover about me with your airy wings,
And hear your mother's lamentation !

2. Mar. [aside] Hover about her; say, that right for right

Hath dimm'd your infant morn to aged night. Duch. So many miseries have crazed my voice,

That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute.
Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead?

2. Mar [aside] Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet,

Edward, for Edward, pays a dying debt.

2. Elix. Wilt thou, O God, fly from such gentle lambs,

And throw them in the entrails of the wolf?

When didst thou sleep, when such a deed was

done?

2.Mar. [aside.] When holy Harry died, and my

sweet son.

Duch. Dead life, blind sight, poor mortalliving ghost,

Woe's scene, world's shame, grave's due by life

usurp'd,

Brief abstract and record of tedious days,
Rest thy unrest on England's lawful earth,

[Sitting down. Unlawfully made drunk with innocent blood! 2. Eliz. Ah, that thou wouldst as soon afford

a grave,

As thou canst yield a melancholy seat;

Then would I hide my bones, not rest them here! Ah, who hath any cause to mourn but we?

[Sitting down by her.

2. Mar. [advancing.] If ancient sorrow be

most reverend,

Give mine the benefit of seniory,

And let my griefs frown on the upper hand.
If sorrow can admit society,

[Sitting down with them.
Tell o'er your woes again by viewing mine:-
I had an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him;
I had a husband, till a Richard kill'd him:
Thou hadst an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him :
Thou hadst a Richard, till a Richard kill'd him.
Duch. I had a Richard too, and thou didst

kill him;

I had a Rutland too, thou holp'st to kill him.
2. Mar. Thou hadst a Clarence too, and
Richard kill'd him.

From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept
A hell-hound, that doth hunt us all to death: