Buck. My lord, I claim your gift, my due by promise,
For which your honour and your faith is pawn'd;
The earldom of Hereford, and the moveables,
The which you promiséd I should 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 demand ?
K. Rich. As I remember, Henry the Sixth

Did prophesy that Richmond should be king,

When Richmond was a little peevish boy.
A king, perhaps, 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!

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.

Well, what's o'clock ?

Well, let it strike.

Buck. Upon the stroke of ten.
K. Rich.

Buck. 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 whether you will or no.

K. Rich. Tut, tut,

Thou troublest me; I am not in the vein.

Buck. Is it even so? Rewards he my true service

[Exeunt all but Buckingham.

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[Exit.

With such contempt? Made I him king for this ?
O, let me think on Hastings, and be gone.

The same.

Enter TYRREL.

Tyr. The tyrannous and bloody deed is done.
Dighton and Forrest, whom I did suborn
To do this ruthless piece of butchery,
Melting with tenderness and kind compassion,
Wept like two children in their deaths' sad story.
'Lo, thus,' quoth Dighton, 'lay those tender babes: '
Thus, thus,' quoth Forrest, 'girdling one another
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:

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Which once,' quoth Forrest, almost chang'd my mind;
But O! the devil'-there the villain stopp'd;
Whilst Dighton thus told on: We smother'd
The most replenished sweet work of nature,
That from the prime creation e'er she fram'd.'
Thus both are gone; and so I left them both,
To bring this tidings to the bloody king.

Enter KING RICHARD.

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?

And buried, gentle Tyrrel?

Tyr. The chaplain of the Tower hath buried them;
But how or in what place I do not know.

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.
Farewell till then.

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[Exit Tyrrel. 120

The son of Clarence have I pent up close;
His daughter meanly have I match'd in marriage;
The sons of Edward sleep in Abram's bosom,
And Anne my wife hath bid the world good night.
Now, for I know the Breton Richmond aims
At young Elizabeth, my brother's daughter,
And, by that knot, looks proudly o'er the crown,
To her I go, 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: Ely 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.—

Come, muster men: my counsel is my shield;
We must be brief when traitors brave the field.

Before the palace.

Enter QUEEN MARGARET.

Q. Mar. Here in these confines slily have I lurk'd,

To watch the waning of mine adversaries.

A dire induction am I witness to,

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[Exeunt.

And will to France, hoping the consequence
Will prove as bitter, black, and tragical.

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Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH and the DUCHESS OF YORK. Q. Eliz. Ah, my young princes! Ah, my tender babes! If yet your gentle souls fly in the air, Hover about me with your airy wings, And hear your mother's lamentation!

Duch. So many miseries have craz'd my voice, That my woe-wearied tongue is mute and dumb. Blind sight, dead life, poor mortal living ghost, Rest thy unrest on England's lawful earth.

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[Sitting down. 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.

[Sitting down by her.

Q. Mar. If ancient sorrow be most reverend,
Give mine the benefit of seniory.
If sorrow can admit society,

[Sitting down with them.

Tell o'er your woes again by viewing mine.

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

God witness with me, I have wept for thine.

Q. Mar. Bear with me; I am hungry for revenge,

And now I cloy me with beholding it.

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

That I should wish for thee to help me curse.

Q. Mar. Forbear to sleep the nights, and fast the days;

Compare dead happiness with living woe;

Think that thy babes were fairer than they were,
And he that slew them fouler than he is:

Revolving this will teach thee how to curse.

Q. Eliz. My words are dull; O, quicken them with thine!
Q. Mar. Thy woes will make them sharp, and pierce like

mine.

Duch. Why should calamity be full of words?

[Exit. 170

Q. Eliz. Let them have scope: though what they do impart Help not at all, yet do they ease the heart.

Enter KING RICHARD, marching, with drums and trumpets. K. Rich. Who intercepts me in my expedition? Duch. O, she that might have intercepted thee, From all the slaughters, wretch, that thou hast done!

Q. Eliz. Hidest thou that forehead with a golden crown. Tell me, thou villain slave, where are my children?

Duch. Thou toad, thou toad, where is thy brother Clarence ? And little Ned Plantagenet, his son?

Q. Eliz. Where is kind Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Grey?

K. Rich. A flourish, trumpets! strike alarum, drums! Let not the heavens hear these tell-tale women

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Rail on the Lord's anointed: strike, I say! [Flourish. Alarums. Either be patient, and entreat me fair,

Or with the clamorous report of war

Thus will I drown your exclamations.
Duch. Art thou my son?

K. Rich. Ay, I thank God, my father, and yourself.
Madam, I have a touch of your condition,

Which cannot brook the accent of reproof.

Duch. O, let me speak! I will be mild and gentle.

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K. Rich. And brief, good mother; for I am in haste.
Duch. Art thou so hasty? I have stay'd for thee,

God knows, in anguish, pain and agony.

K. Rich. And came I not at last to comfort you
Duch. No, by the holy rood, thou know'st it well,

P

Thou camest on earth to make the earth my hell.
What comfortable hour canst thou name,

That ever graced me in thy company?

K. Rich. If I be so disgracious in your sight,
Let me march on, and not offend your grace.
Strike up the drum.

Duch.
I prithee, hear me speak.
K. Rich. You speak too bitterly.

200

Duch.

Hear me a word;

For I shall never speak to thee again.

K. Rich. So.

Duch. Either thou wilt die, by God's just ordinance, Ere from this war thou turn a conqueror,

Or I with grief and extreme age shall perish,

And never look upon thy face again.

Therefore take with thee my most heavy curse;

Which, in the day of battle, tire thee more

Than all the complete armour that thou wear'st!

Bloody thou art, bloody will be thy end.

210

[Exit.

Q. Eliz. Though far more cause, yet much less spirit to curse

Abides in me; I say amen to all.

K. Rich. Stay, madam; I must speak a word with you.
Q. Eliz. I have no more sons of the royal blood

For thee to murder: for my daughters, Richard,
They shall be praying nuns, not weeping queens;
And therefore level not to hit their lives.

K. Rich. You have a daughter call'd Elizabeth,
Virtuous and fair, royal and gracious.

Q. Eliz. And must she die for this ? O, let her live! K. Rich. You speak as if that I had slain my cousins. Madam, so thrive I in my enterprise,

As I intend more good to you and yours

Than ever you or yours were by me wrong'd!

Q. Eliz. What good is cover'd with the face of heaven,
To be discover'd, that can do me good?

K. Rich. The advancement of your children, gentle lady.
Q. Eliz. Up to some scaffold, there to lose their heads?
K. Rich. No, to the dignity and height of honour.
Q. Eliz. Flatter my sorrows with report of it;

Tell me what state, what dignity, what honour,

Canst thou demise to any child of mine?

K. Rich. Even all I have; yea, and myself and all, Will I withal endow a child of thine;

So in thy angry soul thou drown those wrongs,

Which thou suppòsest I have done to thee.

Q. Eliz. Be brief.

K. Rich. Then, from my soul I love thy daughter.

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229

240

Q. Eliz. So from thy soul's love didst thou love her brothers. K. Rich. Be not so hasty to confound my meaning:

I mean, that with my soul I love thy daughter,

And mean to make her queen of England.

That would I learn of you,

Q. Eliz. How canst thou woo her?
K. Rich.
As being best acquainted with her humour.
Q. Eliz. And wilt thou learn of me ?