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

Enter Stanley.

How now, lord Stanley? what's the news?
Stan.

Know, my loving lord,

The marquis Dorset, as I hear, is fled

To Richmond, in the parts where he abides.
K. Rich. Come hither, Catesby: rumouritabroad,
That Anne, my wife, is very grievous sick;
I will take order for her keeping close.
Inquire me out some mean-born gentleman,

Whom I will marry straight to Clarence' daugh

ter:

The boy is foolish, and I fear not him.-
Look, how thou dream'st!-I say again, give out,
That Anne my queen is sick, and like to die :
About it; for it stands me much upon,1

To stop all hopes, whose growth may damage me.[Exit Catesby.

I must be married to my brother's daughter,
Or else my kingdom stands on brittle glass :-
Murder her brothers, and then marry her!
Uncertain way of gain! But I am in
So far in blood, that sin will pluck on sin.
Tear-falling pity dwells not in this eye.-
Re-enter Page, with Tyrrel.

Is thy name-Tyrrel?

Tyr. James Tyrrel, and your most obedient

subject.

K. Rich. Art thou, indeed?
Tyr.
Prove me, my gracious lord.
K. Rich. Dar'st thou resolve to kill a friend of

mine?

mies.

Tyr. Please you; but I had rather kill two eneK. Rich. Why, then thou hast it; two deep enemies,

Foes to my rest, and my sweet sleep's disturbers,

(1) It is of the utmost consequence to my designs,

Are they that I would have thee deall 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;
[Whispers.
Go, by this token:-Rise, and lend thine ear:

There is no more but so:-Say, it is done,
And I will love thee, and prefer thee for it.
T'yr. I will despatch it straight.

Re-enter Buckingham.

[Exit.

Buck. My lord, I have consider'd in my mind
The late demand that you did sound me in.
K. Rich. Well, let that rest. Dorset is fled to

Richmond.

Buck. I hear the news, my lord.
K. Rich. Stanley, he is your wife's son:--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; The earldom of Hereford, and the moveables, Which you have promised I shall 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 Sixth Did prophesy, that Richmond should be king, When Richmond was a little peevish2 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 promise for the earldom,

(1) Act.

(2) Foolish.

K. Rich. Richmond!--When last I was at Exeter, The mayor in courtesy show'd me the castle, And call'd it-Rouge-mont: at which name, I

started;

Because a bard of Ireland told me once,

I should not live long after I saw Richmond.

Buck. My lord,

K. Rich.

Buck.

Ay, what's o'clock?

I am thus bold

To put your grace in mind of what you promis'd me:

K. Rich. Well, but what is't o'clock?

Buck.

Of ten.

K. Rich. Well, let it strike.

Buck.

Upon the stroke

Why, let it strike?

K. Rich. Because that, like a Jack, thou keep'st
the stroke

Betwixt thy begging and my meditation.
I am not in the giving vein to-day.

Buck. Why, then resolve me whe'r you will,

or no.

K. Rich. Thou troublest me; I am not in the vein. [Exeunt King Richard, and train. Buck. And is it thus? repays he my deep service With such contempt? made I him king for this? O, let me think on Hastings; and be gone To Brecknock, while my fearful head is on. [Exit.

SCENE III.--The same. Enter Tyrrel.

Tyr. The tyrannous and bloody act is done; The most arch deed of piteous massacre, 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 flesh'd villains, bloody dogs, Melting with tenderness and mild compassion, Wept like two children, in their death's sad story.

(1) An image like those at St. Dunstan's church

in Fleet-street.

(2) His castle in Wales.

(3) Merciless.

1

O thus, quoth Dighton, lay the gentle babes,
Thus, thus, quoth Forrest, girdling 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. Rich. 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.

I humbly take my leave. [Exil

Tyr.
K. Rich. The son of Clarence have I penn'd up

His daughter meanly 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 Bretagnel Richmond aims
At young Elizabeth, my brother's daughter,
And, by that knot, looks proudly on the crown,

To her I go, a jolly thriving wooer.

Enter Catesby..

Cate. My lord,

K. Rich. Good news or bad, that thou com'st in

so bluntly?

Cate. Bad news, my lord: Morton2 is fled to

Richmond;

And Buckingham, back'd with the hardy Welsh

men,

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 induction3 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?

(1) The country in which Richmond had taken

refuge.

(2) Bishop of Ely. (3) Introduction.