The most arch deed of piteous massacre,
That ever yet this land was guilty of
Dighton Forrest, whom I did subordi
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, girdiing 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 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. Rick. 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.

K. Rich. The son of Clarence have I peu'd up close; I humbly take my leave. [Exit. 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?

Cute. 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.
[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!

2. Mar. Hover about her; say, that right for right Hath dimra'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?

2. 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?
Why didst thou sleep, when such a deed was done?
O.Mar. When holy Harry died, and my sweet son.
Duck. Dead life, blind sight, poor mortal-living

ghost,

Woe's scene, world's shame, grave's due by life

usurp❜á,

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 wouldst 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 segniory, 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 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;
That excellent grand tyrant of the earth,
That reigns in galled eyes of weeping souls,
Thy womb let loose to chase us to our graves.-
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-fellow with others' moan!

Duch. O, Harry's wife, triumph not in my woes;

God witness with me, I have wept for thine.

9. 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;
Thy 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;
And the beholders of this tragic 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,
And send them thither: But at hand, at hand,
Ensues his piteous and unpitied end:

Earth gapes, hell burns, fiends roar, saints pray,
To have him suddenly convey'd from hence :-
Cancel his bond of life, dear God, I pray,
That I may live to say, The dog is dead!

Q. Eliz. O, thou didst prophesy, the time would

come,

That I should wish for thee to help me curse
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 shadow, painted queen ;
The presentation of but what I was,

The flattering index of a direful pageant,
One heav'd a-high, to be hurl'd down below:
A mother only mock'd with two fair babes;
A dream of what theu wast; a garish flag,"
To be the aim of every dangerous shot;
A sign of dignity, a breath, a bubble;
A queen in jest, only to fill the scene.
Where is thy husband now? where he thy brothers ?
Where be thy two sons? wherein dost thou joy?
Who sues, and kneels, and says-God save the queen?
Where be the bending peers that flatter'd thee?
Where be the thronging troops that follow'd thee?
Decline all this, and see what now thou art.
For happy wife, a most distressed widow;
For joyful mother, one that wails the name;
For one being sued to, one that humbly sues;
For queen, a very caitiff crown'd with care:
For one that scorn'd at me, now scorn'd of me;
For one being fear'd of all, now fearing one;
For one commanding all, obey'd of none.
Thus hath the course of justice wheel'd about,

And left thee but a very prey to time;
Having no more but thought of what thou wert,
To torture thee the more, being what thou art.
Thou didst usurp my place, And dost thou not
Usurp the just proportion of my sorrow?

Now thy proud neck bears half my burden'd yoke;
From which even here I slip my wearied head,
And leave the burden of it all on thee.

Farewell, York's wife,-and queen of sad mis-
chance,--

These English woes shall make me smile in France.
Q. Eliz. O thou well skill'd in curses, stay a while,
And teach me how to curse mine enemies.

2. Mar. Forbear to sleep the night, and fast
the day;

Compare dead happiness with living woe;
Think, that thy babes were fairer than they were,
And he, that slew them, fouler than he is:
Bettering thy loss makes the bad-causer worse;
Revolving this will teach thee how to curse.
Q. Eliz. My words are dull, O, quicken them
with thine!

2. Mar. Thy woes will make them sharp, and
pierce like mine.
[Eait Q. Margaret.
Duch. Why should calamity be full of words?
2. Eliz. Windy attorneys to their client woes,
Airy succeeders of intestate joys,
Poor breathing orators of miseries!

Let them have scope: though what they do impart
Help nothing else, yet do they ease the heart.

Duch. If so, then be not tongue-ty'd go with me,
And in the breath of bitter words let's smother
My damned son, that thy two sweet sons smother'd.
[Drum within.
I hear his drum,-be copious in exclaims.
Enter King RICHARD, and his Train, marching.
K. Rick. Who intercepts me in my expedition?
Duck. O, she, that might have intercepted thee,
By strangling thee in her accursed womb,
From all the slaughters, wretch, that thou hast done.
Q. Eliz. Hid'st thou that forehead with a golden

crown,

Where should be branded, if that right were right,
The slaughter of the prince that ow'd that crown,
And the dire death of my poor sons, and brothers?
Tell me, thou villain-slave, where are my children?

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