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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 I'll soon rid you from the fear of them.
K. Rich. Thou sing'st sweet music.

Tyrrel:

Hark, come hither,

Go, by this token :-Rise and lend thine ear:
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.

Buck. My lord, I have consider'd in my mind

The late request that you did sound me in.

[Whispers.

[Exit.

K. Rich. Well, let that rest. Dorset is fled to Richmond. Buck. I hear the news, my lord.

K. Rich. Stanley, he is your wife's son:-Well look unto 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 earldom,—
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.

Ay, what's o'clock ?

Buck. I am thus bold to put your grace in mind Of what you promis'd me.

K. Rich.

Well, but what's o'clock ?

Buck. Upon the stroke of ten.

K. Rich.

Buck. Why, let it strike?

Well, let it strike.

K. Rich. Because that, like a jack,1 thou keep'st the stroke Betwixt thy begging and my meditation.

I'm 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 service
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.

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 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.—

[Exit.

(1) Like a jack. The jack of a clock-house was an automaton which struck the hours. The famous old figures at S. Dunstan's, Fleet Street, were of this kind: and at Horsham, in Sussex, there was formerly a figure, dressed in scarlet and gold, which struck the hours.

Hence both are gone with conscience and remorse,
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.
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.

Cate. My lord,

Enter CATESBY.

[Exit.

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 Welshmen,

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.

D D

[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 right1
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.2

Q. Eliz. Wilt thou, Ŏ God, fly from such gentle lambs,
And throw them in the entrails of the wolf?3
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,
Unlawfully made drunk with innocent blood!

[Sitting down.

Q. Eliz. Ah, that thou wouldst as soon afford a grave,

As thou canst yield a melancholy seat;

(1) Right for right, i.e. justice answering the claims of justice.

(2) Edward for Edward pays a dying debt. i.e. Edward IV. has now paid the penalty for the murder of Edward, the son of Margaret.

(3) And throw them in the entrails of the wolf, i.e. allow them to be swallowed by the wolf.

(4) Holy Harry. The title of holy is applied to Henry VI, and not without reason, for though never actually canonized, he was regarded as a saint, and miracles were said to have been performed by him. In some of the ancient service-books there were prayers said to be of his composing; and, moreover, there is one addressed to him and entitled, "a prayer to holy King Henry."

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,1
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 kim.

Q. 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:
That dog, that had his teeth before his eyes
To worry lambs, and lap their gentle blood;
That foul defacer of God's handiwork,

That reigns in galled eyes of weeping souls;
That excellent grand tyrant of the earth,
Thy womb let loose to chase us to our graves.
O upright, just, and true-disposing God,
How do I thank thee, that this carnal cur
Preys on the issue of his mother's body,
And makes her pew-fellow2 with others' moan!
Duch. O, Harry's wife, triumph not in my woe;
God witness with me, I have wept for thine.

Q. Mar. Bear with me; I am hungry for revenge,
And now I cloy me with beholding it.

Thy Edward he is dead that kill'd my Edward;
The other Edward dead, to quit my Edward;
Young York he is but boot, because both they
Match not the high perfection of my loss.
Thy Clarence he is dead that stabb'd
my Edward:
1;
And the beholders of this frantic play,

The adulterate Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Grey,
Untimely smother'd in their dusky graves.
Richard yet lives, hell's black intelligencer;
Only reserv'd their factor, to buy souls,

(1) Seniory is used for seniority.

(2) Pew-fellow, i.e. a companion, one who occupies the same seat and is in like condition. Dr. Johnson remarks that we have now an expression somewhat like it when we say of persons in the same difficulties, that "they are in the same box."

(2) He is but boot. We say still "to boot," to signify something in addition, into the bargain.

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