O, let me think on Hastings; and be gone [Exit. SCENE III.—The same. Enter TYRREL. Tyr. The tyrannous and bloody act is done; Which, in their summer beauty, kiss'd each other. Which once, quoth Forrest, almost chang'd my mind; 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? 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. Tyr. I humbly take my leave. [Exit. K. Rich. The son of Clarence have I penn'd up close; 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. Cate. My lord, Enter CATESBY. K. Rich. Good news or bad, that thou com'st in so bluntly? Cate. Bad news, my lord: Morton is fled to Rich mond; And Buckingham, back'd with the hardy Welshmen, Is in the field, and still his power encreaseth. K. Rich. Ely with Richmond troubles me more near, Than Buckingham and his rash-levied strength. Delay leads impotent and snail-pac'd beggary. Jove's Mercury, and herald for a king! Go, muster men: My counsel is my shield; 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. And will to France; hoping the consequence 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! Q. Mar. Hover about her; say, that right for right Hath dimm'd your infant morn to aged night. Duch. So many miseries hath craz'd my voice, That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute;- Q. Mar. Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet, Q. Eliz. Wilt thou, O God, fly from such gentle lambs, And throw them in the entrails of the wolf? Q. Mar. When holy Harry died, and my sweet son. [Sitting down. Unlawfully made drunk with innocent blood! Q. Eliz. Ah, that thou would'st 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 seniory, 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; Duch. I had a Richard too, and thou didst kill him ; I had a Rutland too, thou holp'st to kill him. 5 Q. Mar. Thou hadst a Clarence too, and Richard From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept Q. 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; Earth gapes, hell burns, fiends roar, saints pray, |