For which your honour and your faith is pawn'd;
Th' earldom of Hereford, and the moveables,
Which you have promised I fhall poffefs.

K. Rich. Stanley, look to your wife; if the convey Letters to Richmond, you fhall answer it.

Buck. What fays your Highness to my just request? K. Rich I do remember me -Henry the Sixth 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 fhould kill him?
Buck. My Lord, your promife for the earldom-
-K. Rich. Richmond? when I was laft at Exeter,
The Mayor in courtesy fhewed me the castle,
And call'd it Rogue-mont: at which name I started;
Because a bard of ireland told me once,

1 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. 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.

[itroke

Buck. Why, then refolve me whe'r 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? , let me think on Haftings, and be gone To Brecknock, while my fearful head is on, [Exit. SCENE III. Enter Tyrrel.

Tyr.

The tyrannous and bloody act is done
The moft arch deed of piteous maffacre,

• 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 fleth'd 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 Forreit), girdling one another • Within their innocent alabaster arms:

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

Which once (quoth Forreft) alnost chang'd my mind, But, oh! the devil-there the villains ftopp'd: When Dighton thus told on-we fmothered • The molt replenished sweet work of nature, • That from the prime creation e'er fhe framed • Hence both are gone with confcience and remorfe ; • 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 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 happinefs, be happy then;

For it is done.

K. Rich. But didst 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. soon after fupper, When thou shalt tell the process of their death. Mean time- -but think how I may do thee goud, And be inheritor of thy defire.

Farewel till then.

Tyr. i humbly take my leave.

[Exit.

K. Rich. The ion of Clarence have I pent up close; His daughter meanly have I match'd in marriage; The fons of Edward sleep in Abraham's bofom ; ̈ And Anne my wife hath bid this world good night.

Now, for I know the Briton Richmond aims
At young Elifabeth, 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.

K. Rich. Good or bad news, that thou com'ft in fo Catef. Bad news, my Lord. Morton is fled to Richmond;

And Buckingham, back'd with the hardy Welchmen, Is in the field, and still his power increaseth.

K. Rich. Ely with Richmond troubles me more near, Than Buckingham and his rafh-levied army. 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 countel is my thield;

We must be brief when traitors brave the field. [Exit.
SCENE IV. Enter Queen Margaret.

2. Mar. So now profperity begins to mellow,
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 Margaret! Who comes here?
Enter the Duchess of York 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 fix'd in doom perpetual,
Hover about me with your airy wings,
And hear your mother's lamentation.

2 Mar. Hover about her; fay, that wrong for wrong Hath dimm'd your infant-morn to aged night.

* Bishop of Ely.

Duch. So many miferies have craz'd my voice, That my woe-wearied tongue is ftill and mute. Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead?

2. 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 didst thou fleep when fuch a deed was done?
2. Mar. When holy Henry dy'd, and my sweet fon. *
Queen. Ah, that thou would ft as foon afford a grave.
[Throwing herself down upon the earth.
As thou canft yield a melancholy feat;

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

2 Mar. If ancient forrow be moft reverend, Give mine the benefit of feniority;

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

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 had'ft a Richard, till a Richard kill'd him.

Duch. I had a Richard too, and thou didst kill him ; I had a Ru land too, thou holp'ft 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;
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 loote, to chafe us to our graves.
O upright, just, and true-difpofing God,
How do I thank thee, that this carnal cur
Preys on the iffue of his mother's body;

-and my fweet fon.

Duch. Dead life, blind fight, poor mortal living ghoft,
Woe's scene, world's fhae, grave's due, by life ufurp'd,
Brief abstract and record of tedious days,

Reft thy unreft on England's lawful earth,
Unlawfully made drunk with innocent blood,
Queen. Ah, that thou would'st, &c,

And makes her pue-fellow with others' moan!

Duch. Oh, Harry's wife, triumph not in my woes: God witness with me, I have wept for thine.

2. 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 lofs.
Thy Clarence he is dead, that ftabb'd my Edward;
And the beholders of this tragic play,

The adulterer Haftings, Rivers, Vaughan, Gray,
Untimely fmother'd in their dufky graves.
Richard yet lives, hell's black intelligencer,
Only referv'd their factor to buy fouls,

And fend them thither: but at hand, at hand,

Infues his piteous and unpitied end.

Earth gapes, hell burns, fiends roar, faints pray, for

vengeance.

Cancel his bond of life, dear God, I pray,

That may live to fay, The dog is dead!

Queen. Oh! thou didst prophefy, the time would
That I fhould wish for thee to help me curfe [come,
That bottled spider, that foul bunch-back'd toad.
2. 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 page;
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 scene.

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 most distressed widow;
For joyful mother, one that wails the name;
VOL. V.

X