me.

To stop all hopes, whose growth may damage
[Exit CATESBY.
1 must be married to my brother's daughter,
Or else my kingdom stands on brittle glass :-
Murder her brothers, and then marry her!
Uncertain way of gain! But I am in
So far in blood, that sin will pluck on sin.
Tear-falling pity dwells not in this eye.-
Re-enter Page, with TYRREL.

Is thy name-Tyrrel?

Tyr. James Tyrrel, and your most obedient subject.

K. Rich. Art thou, indeed?

Tyr.

Prove me, my gracious lord. K. Rich. Dar'st thou resolve to kill a friend

of mine.

Tyr. Please you; but I had rather kill two enemies.

K. Rich. Why, then thou hast it; two deep enemies,

Foes to my rest, and my sweet sleep's disturbers. Are they that I would have thee deal upon : Tyrrel, I mean those bastards in the Tower.

Tyr. Let me have open means to come to them,
And soon I'll rid you from the fear of them.
K. Rich. Thou sing'st sweet musick. Hark,
come hither, Tyrrel;

Go, by this token:-Rise, and lend thine ear:
[Whispers.
There is no more but so;-Say, it is done,
And I will love thee, and prefer thee for it.
Tyr. I will despatch it straight.

Re-enter BUCKINGHAM.

[Exit.

Buck. My lord, I have consider'd in my mind The late den and that you did sound me in. K. Rich. Well, let that rest. Dorset is fled to Richmond.

Buck. I hear the news, my lord.

K. Rich. Stanley, he's your wife's son:-Well, look to it.

Buck. My lord, I claim the gift, my due by promise,

For which your honour and your faith is pawn'd; The earldom of Hereford, and the moveables, Which you have promised I shall possess.

K. Rich. Stanley, look to your wife; if she

convey

Letters to Richmond, you shall answer it.

Buck. What says your highness to my just request?

K. Rich. I do remember me,-Henry the Sixth Did prophesy, that Richmond should be king, When Richmond was a little peevish boy. A king!-perhaps

Buck. My lord,

K. Rich. How chance, the prophet could not at that time,

Have told me, I being by, that I should kill him? Buck. My lord, your promise for the earl dom,

K. Rich. Richmond!-When last I was at Exeter,

The mayor in courtesy show'd me the castle, And call'd it-Rouge-mont: at which name, I started;

Because a bard of Ireland told me once,

I should not live long after I saw Richmond.
Buck. My lord,--

K. Rich.

Buck.

Ay, what's o'clock ?

I am thus bold

To put your grace in mind of what you promis'd

me.

K. Rich. Well, but what is't o'clock ?

Buck.

Of ten.

Upon the stroke

Why, let it strike?

K. Rich. Well, let it strike.

Buck.

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

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,
Weptlike two children, in their death's sad story.
O thus, quoth Dighton, lay the gentle babes,-
Thus, thus, quoth Forrest, girdling one another
Within their alabaster innocent arms:

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

Which once, quoth Forrest, almost chang'd my mind;

But, O, 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 fram'd.-
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.

Enter KING RICHARD.

And here he comes:-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.

Mean time, but think how I may do thee good And be inheritor of thy desire.

Farewell, till then.

Tyr.

I humbly take my leave. [Erit. K. Rich. The son of Clarence have I penn'd up close;

His daughter meanly have I match'd in marriage;

The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham's bosom, And Anne my wife hath bid the 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.

Enter CATESBY.

Cate. My lord,

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

Cate. Bad news, my lord; Morton is 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-pac'd 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. The same. Before the Palace.

Enter QUEEN MARGARET.

Q. 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.

Q. 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!

Q. Mar. Hover about her; say, that right for right

Hath dimm'd your infant morn to aged night. Duch. So many miseries have craz❜d my voice, That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute,Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead?

Q. Mar. Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet, Edward for Edward pays a dying debt.

Q. Eliz. 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?

Q. Mar. When holy Harry died, and my sweet

son.

Duch. Dead life, blind sight, poor mortal. living 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!
Q. Eliz. Ah, that thou would'st 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.
Q. Mar. If ancient sorrow be most reverent,
Give mine the benefit of seniory,

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

[Sitting down with them.