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 soon I'll rid you from the fear of them. K. Rich. Thou sing'st sweet music. Hark, come hither, Tyrrel:

Go, by this token: rise, and lend thine ear: 80 [Whispers.

There is no more but so: say it is done;
And I will love thee, and prefer thee too.
Tyr. 'Tis done, my gracious lord.

K. Rich. Shall we hear from thee, Tyrrel, ere we sleep?

Tyr. Ye shall, my Lord.

Re-enter BUCKINGHAM.

[Exit.

Within their innocent alabaster 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 changed
my mind;

But O! the devil '-there the villain stopp'd; Whilst Dighton thus told on: We smothered The most replenished sweet work of nature, That from the prime creation e'er she framed. Thus both are gone with conscience and re. morse; 20

They could not speak; and so I left them both,

To bring this tidings to the bloody king.
And here he comes.

Enter KING RICHARD.

All hail, my sovereign liege! 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, my lord.

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 how or in what place I do not know.

30

K. Rich. Come to me, Tyrrel, soon at after supper,

And thou shalt tell the process of their death.
Meantime, but think how I may do thee good,
And be inheritor of thy desire.
Farewell till soon.
[Exit Tyrrel.
The son of Clarence have I pent up close;
His daughter meanly have I match'd in mar-

Then fiery expedition be my wing, Jove's Mercury, and herald for a king! Come, muster men: my counsel is my shield; We must be brief when traitors brave the field. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV. 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 adversaries.
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 young princes! ah, my tender babes!

11

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 right

Hath dimm'd your infant morn to aged night. Duch. So many miseries have crazed my voice,

That my woe-wearied tongue is mute and dumb,

Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead?

Q. Mar. Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet. Edward for Edward pays a dying debt.

21

Q. Eliz. Wilt thou, O God, fly from such gentle lambs,

And throw them in the entrails of the wolf? When didst thou sleep when such a deed was done?

Q. Mar. When holy Harry died, and my sweet son.

Duch. Blind sight, dead life, 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, [Sitting down. Unlawfully made drunk with innocents' blood! Q. Eliz. O, that thou wouldst as well afford a grave As thou canst yield a melancholy seat ! Then would I hide my bones, not rest them here.

31

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, 50
That foul defacer of God's handiwork,
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.
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-fellow with others'

moau !

ward;

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 kill'd my Ed-
ward;

And the beholders of this tragic play,
The adulterate Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan,
Grey,

Untimely smother'd in their dusky graves. 70
Richard yet lives, hell's black intelligencer,
Only reserved 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 away.
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

80 That I should wish for thee to help me curse That bottled spider, that foul bunch-back'd toad!

Q. 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 heaved a-high, to be hurl'd down below;
A mother only mock'd with two sweet babes;
A dream of what thou wert, a breath, a bubble,
A sign of dignity, a garish flag,
To be the aim of every dangerous shot;
A queen in jest, only to fill the scene.

90