Buck. Upon the stroke of ten.

K. Rich. Well, let it ftrike..
Buck. Why let it strike?

K. Rich. Because that like a Jack thou keep'ft the ftroke Betwixt thy begging and my meditation.

I am not in the giving vein to-day.

Buck. Why then refolve me if you will or no.

K. Rich. Thou troubleft me, I am not in the vein. [Exit.
Buck. Is it ev'n fo? repays he my deep fervice

With fuch contempt? made I him King for this?
O, let me think on Haftings, and be gone
To Brecnock, while my fearful head is on.

Tyr.THE tyrannous and bloody act is done;
The most arch-deed of piteous maffacre

That ever yet this land was guilty of!
Dighton and Forrest, whom I did fuborn
To do this piece of ruthless butchery,
. Albeit they were flesht villains, bloody dogs,
Melting with tenderness and mild compaffion,
Wept like two children, in their deaths fad ftories.
O thus, quoth Dighton, lay the gentle babes,
Thus, thus, quoth Forrest, girdling one another
Within their innocent alabafter arms:

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

[Exit.

Which once, quoth Forrest, almost chang'd my mind:
But, oh! the Devil there the villain stopt:
When Dighton thus told on we fmothered
The most replenished sweet work of nature,
That from the prime creation e'er fhe framed.
Hence both are gone; with confcience and remorfe

They

They could not speak, and fo I left them both;
To bear these tidings to the bloody King.

Enter King Richard.

And here he comes. All health, my fovereign 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 didft thou fee 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 fay the truth, I do not know.

K. Rich. Come to me, Tyrrel, foon, foon after fupper, When thou shalt tell the process of their death.

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

Farewel 'till then.

Tyr. I humbly take my leave.

[Exit.

K. Rich. The fon of Clarence have I pent up clofe:
His daughter meanly have I match'd in marriage:
The fons of Edward fleep in Abraham's bofom:
And Anne my wife hath bid this world good night.
Now, for I know the Briton 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.

Catef. My Lord!

Enter Catesby.

[bluntly?

K. Rich. Good or bad news, that thou com'ft in fo Catef. Bad news, my Lord; a Morton is fled to Richmond, And Buckingham, back'd with the hardy Welshmen,

Is in the field, and ftill his power encreaseth.

K. Rich. Ely with Richmond troubles me more near, Than Buckingham and his rafh-levied army.

Come,

Come, I have learn'd, that fearful commenting

Is leaden fervitor to dull delay;

Delay leads impotent and fnail-pac'd beggary.
Then fiery expedition be my wing,

Jove's Mercury, and herald for a King!

Go mufter men; my council is my fhield,

We must be brief, when traitors brave the field. [Exit.

Q. Mar.O now profperity begins to mellow,

S

And drop into the rotten mouth of death:

Here in these confines flily have I lurk'd,

To watch the waining of mine enemies.
A dire induction am I witness to;

And will to France, hoping the confequence

Will prove as bitter, black and tragical.

Withdraw thee, wretched Margret; who comes here?

Enter Dutchess and Queen.

Queen. Ah my poor

Princes! ah my

tender babes!

My unblown flowers, new-appearing sweets!

If yet your gentle fouls fly in the air,
And be not fixt in doom perpetual,
Hover about me with your airy wings,
And hear your mother's lamentation.

Q. Mar. Hover about her; fay, that right for right
Hath dimm'd your infant morn to aged night.
Dutch. So many miferies have craz'd my voice,
That my woe-wearied tongue is ftill and mute.
Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead?

Q. Mar. Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet,

Edward for Edward pays a dying debt.

Queen. Wilt thou, O God, fly from fuch gentle lambs, And throw them in the intrails of the wolf?

Why

Why did❜ft thou fleep when fuch a deed was done?
Q. Mar. When holy Henry dy'd, and my fweet fon.
Queen. Ah that thou would'ft as foon afford a grave
[Throwing berfelf down upon the earth.
As thou canft yield a melancholy feat;

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

Q. Mar. If antient forrow be moft reverend,
Give mine the benefit of feniority;

And let my griefs frown on the upper hand,
If forrow can admit fociety.

I had an Edward 'till a Richard kill'd him :

I had a husband 'till a Richard kill'd him:

Thou had'ft an Edward 'till a Richard kill'd him :
Thou had'ft a Richard 'till a Richard kill'd him.

Dutch. I had a Richard too, and thou did't kill him: {him. Q. Mar. Thou hadft a Clarence too, and Richard kill'd 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 handy-work, Thy womb let loofe to chafe us to our graves. O upright, juft, and true difpofing God, How do I thank thee, that this carnal cur Preys on the iffue of his mother's body!

I had a Rutland too, thou holp'ft to kill him.

Dutch. Oh Harry's wife, triumph not in my woes:

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.

Edward:

Thy Edward, he is dead, that kill'd my
The other Edward dead, to quit my Edward:

(a) — and my fweet fon.

Dutch. Dead life, blind fight, poor mortal living ghoft, Woe's fcene, world's fhame, grave's due, by life ufurp'd,

Brief abftract and record of tedious days,

Reft thy unrest on England's lawful earth,
Unlawfully made drunk with innocent blood.

Queen. Ah that thou would'ft, &c.

Young

Young York he is but boot, because both they
Match not the high perfection of my lofs.
Thy Clarence he is dead that ftab'd my Edward;
And the beholders of this tragic play,

Th' adulterate Haftings, Rivers, Vaughan, Gray,
Untimely fmother'd in their dusky graves.
Richard yet lives, hell's black intelligencer,
Only referv'd' 'the factor to buy fouls,
And fend them thither: but at hand, at hand
Infues his piteous and unpitied end.

[geance.

Earth gapes, hell burns, fiends hell burns, fiends roar, faints pray, for venCancel his bond of life, dear God, I pray,

That I may live to fay, the dog is dead!

Queen. Oh! thou did'ft prophefie the time would come, That I should wish for thee to help me curfe

That bottell'd fpider, that foul hunch-back'd toad.
Q. Mar. I call'd thee then vain flourish of my fortune,
I call'd thee then poor fhadow, painted Queen,
The presentation of but what I was;

The flatt'ring index of a direful pageant;
One heav'd on high to be hurl'd down below:
A mother only mock'd with two fair babes;
A dream of what thou waft; a garish flag
To be the aim of ev'ry dang'rous fhot;
A fign of dignity, a breath, a bubble;
A Queen in jeft, only to fill the fcene.

Where is thy husband now? where be thy brothers?
Where be thy children? wherein doft thou joy?
Who fues and kneels, and fays, God fave the Queen?
Where be the bending Peers that flatter'd thee?
Where be the thronging troops that follow'd thee?
Decline all this, and fee what now thou art.
For happy wife, a moft diftreffed widow;
For joyful mother, one that wails the name;
For one being fu'd to, one that humbly fues;
For Queen, a very caitiff crown'd with care;
For one that fcorn'd at me, now fcorn'd of me;

3 their

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