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SCENE II. Changes to the court.

Flourish of trumpets. Enter Gloucester as king, Buckingham, Catesby.

K. RICH. Stand all apart.-Coufin of Buckingham,
Buck. My gracious fovereign!

K. RICH. Give me thy hand. Thus high, by thy advice,
And thy affiftance, is king Richard feated.
But fhall we wear thefe glories for a day?

Or fhall they laft, and we rejoice in them?

BUCK. Still live they, and for ever let them reft!
K. RICH. Ah, Buckingham, now do I play the touch,
To try if thou be current gold, indeed.

Young Edward lives-think now, what I would speak.
BUCK. Say on, my loving lord.

K. RICH. Why, Buckingham, I fay, I would be king.
BUCK. Why fo you are, my thrice-renowned liege.
K. RICH. Ha! am I king? 'tis fo-but Edward lives
Buck. True, noble prince.

K. RICH. O bitter confequence!

That Edward still should live-true, noble prince?
Coufin, thou wert not wont to be fo dull.

-Shall I be plain? I wifh the bastards dead;

And I would have it fuddenly perform'd.

What fay'st thou now? Speak fuddenly, be brief.

Buck. Your grace may do your pleasure.

K. RICH. Tut, tut, thou art all ice, thy kindnefs freezes:

Say, have I thy consent that they shall die?

BUCK. Give me fome breath, fome little paufe, dear Before I pofitively speak in this;

I will refolve your grace immediately.

[lor

[Exit Buc

CATES. The king is angry; fee, he gnaws his lip.

K. RICH. I will converfe with iron-witted fools,
And unrespective boys; none are for me,

That look into me with confiderate eyes.
High-reaching Buckingham grows circumspect.
Boy,

PAGE. My lord.

K. RICH. Know'st thou not any, whom corrupting gold Would tempt unto a clofe exploit of death?

PAGE. I know a difcontented gentleman,

Whose humble means match not his haughty fpirit;
Gold were as good as twenty orators,

And will, no doubt, tempt him to any thing.

K. RICH. What is his name?

PAGE. His name, my lord, is Tirrel.

K. RICH. I partly know the man; go call him hither.

-The deep-revolving, witty Buckingham

No more fhall be the neighbour to my counfels.
Hath he fo long held out with me untir'd,

And stops he now for breath ?well, be it fo.

Enter Stanley.

How now, Lord Stanley, what's the news?

STAN. My lord,

The marquis Dorfet, as I hear, is fled

To Richmond, in the parts where he abides,

[Exit Boy.

K. KICH. Come hither, Catesby; rumour is abroad,
That Anne my wife is fick, and like to die.

I will take order for her keeping close.
Inquire me out fome mean-born gentleman,
Whom I will marry straight to Clarence' daughter.
The boy is foolish, and I fear not him.-

Look, how thou dream'st-I say again, give out,

That Anne, my queen, is fick, and like to die.
About it; for it stands me much upon

To stop all hopes, whofe growth may damage me.

I must be married to my brother's daughter,
Or else my kingdom ftands on brittle glass.
Murder her brothers, and then marry her!
Uncertain way of gain! but I am in
So far in blood, that fin will pluck on fin.
Enter Tirrel.

Tear-falling pity dwells not in this eye.
Is thy name Tirrel?

[Exit Catesby.

TIR. James Tirrel, and your most obedient subject.

K. RICH, Art thou indeed?

TIR. Prove me, my gracious lord,

[He takes him aside.

[He kneels.

K. RICH. Dar'ft thou resolve to kill a friend of mine?

TIR. Please you, I'd rather kill two enemies.

K. RICH. Why then thou haft it; two deep enemies,

Foes to my rest, and my sweet sleep's disturbers,
Are they that I would have thee deal upon;

Tirrel, I mean those bastards in the tower.

TIR. Let me have open means to come to them,

And foon I'll rid you from the fear of them.

K. RICH. Thou fing'st sweet mufick.-Hark, come hi

ther, Tirrel.

Go, by this token-rise, and lend thine ear

There is no more but fo-say, it is done,
And I will love thee and prefer thee for it.

TIR. I will dispatch it strait.

Re-enter Buckingham.

Buck. My lord, I have confider'd in my mind That late demand, that you did sound me in.

[Whispers.

[Exit.

K. RICH. Well, let that reft. Dorfet is fled to Richmond.
BUCK. I hear the news, my lord.

K. RICH. Stanley, he is your wife's fon. 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; Th'earldom of Hereford, and the moveables,

Which you have promised, I should 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 fixth
Did prophefy 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 promife for the earldom-
K. RICH. Richmond? when I was last at Exeter,
The mayor in curtesy fhewed me the castle,
And call'd it Rouge-mont, at which name I started;
Becaufe a bard of Ireland told me once,

I fhould not live long after I faw 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. But what's o'clock ?
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 Betwixt thy begging and my meditation.

I am not in the giving vein to-day.

[stroke

Buck. Why, then resolve me whether you will, or no. K. RICH. Thou troublest me, I am not in the vein.

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 Hastings, and be gone

{Exit.

To Brecknock, while my fearful head is on.

[Exit.

SCENE III. Enter Tirrel.

TIR. The tyrrannous 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' sad story.
O thus, (quoth Dighton) lay the gentle babes ;-
Thus, thus, (quoth Forrest) girding one another
Within their innocent alabaster arms,

Their lips were four red roses on a stock,
And in their fummer beauty kifs'd each other.
A book of prayers on their pillow lay,

Which once, (quoth Forrest) almost chang'd my mind,
But, oh! the devil-there the villain stopt,
When Dighton thus told on-we fmother'd
The most replenished sweet work of nature,
That from the prime creation e'er she fram'd→→
Hence both are gone with confcience and remorfe