SCENE II-A Room of State in the Palace. Flourish of trumpets. RICHARD, as King, upon his throne; BUCKINGHAM, CATESBY, a Page, and others."

K. Rich. Stand all apart.-Cousin of Buckingham,

Buck. My gracious sovereign.

K. Rich. Give me thy hand. Thus high, by thy advice

And thy assistance, is King Richard seated:
But shall we wear these glories for a day;
Or shall they last, and we rejoice in them?
Buck. Still live they, and for ever let them
last'

K. Rich. Ah Buckingham, now do I play the touch,

To try if thou be current gold indeed.

Young Edward lives :-think now what I would speak.

Buck. Say on, my loving lord.

K. Rich. Why, Buckingham, I say I would be king.

Buck. Why so you are, my thrice-renowned

That Edward still should live.-"True, noble prince!"

Cousin, thou wast not wont to be so dull.
Shall I be plain? I wish the bastards dead;
And I would have it suddenly performed.
What say'st thou now? speak suddenly; be
brief.

Buck. Your grace may do your pleasure.
K. Rich. Tat, tut, thou art all ice; thy kind-
ness freezes.

Say, have I thy consent that they shall die? Buck. Give me some breath, some little pause, dear lord,

Before I positively speak in this:

I will resolve your grace immediately. [Exit. Cate. The King is angry: see, he gnaws his lip.

[Aside.

K. Rich. I will converse with iron-witted fools, [Descends from his throne. And unrespective boys: none are for me That look into me with considerate eyes : High-reaching Buckingham grows circumspect. Boy,

Page. My lord.

K. Rich. Know'st thou not any whom corrupting gold

Would tempt unto a close exploit of death?

Page. I know a discontented gentleman

Whose humble means match not his haughty mind:

Gold were as good as twenty orators,
And will, no doubt, tempt him to anything.
K. Rich. What is his name?
Page. His name, my lord, is Tyrrel.
K. Rich. I partly know the man: go, call
him hither, boy.- [Exit Page.

The deep-revolving witty Buckingham
No more shall be the neighbour to my coun-
sels.

Hath he so long held out with me untired,
And stops he now for breath?-well, be it

Enter STANLEY.

80.

Buck. My lord, your promise for the earldom. K. Rich. Richmond!-When last I was at Exeter,

The mayor in courtesy shewed me the castle, And called it Rougemont: 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. Ay, what's o'clock?

Buck. I am thus bold to put your grace in mind

Of what you promised me.

K. Rich. Well, but what 's o'clock?

Buck. Upon the stroke of ten.

K. Rich. Well, let it strike.

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 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 fleshed 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, "girdling one another

Within their alabaster innocent arms:
Their lips were four red roses on a stalk,
Which in their summer beauty kissed 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 stopped:
When Dighton thus told on :-"We smothered
The most replenished sweet work of nature
That, from the prime creation, e'er she framed."

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 lurked 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 fixed 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 dimmed your infant morn to aged night. Duch. So many miseries have crazed my voice, That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute. Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead?

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

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

I had an Edward till a Richard killed him;
I had a husband till a Richard killed him:
Thou hadst an Edward till a Richard killed him;
Thou hadst a Richard till a Richard killed him.
Duch. I had a Richard too, and thou didst

kill him :

I had a Rutland too; thou holpst to kill him.
Q. Mar. Thou hadst a Clarence too, and
Richard killed him.

From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept
A hellhound 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 handiwork;
That excellent grand tyrant of the earth,
That reigns in galléd 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 pewfellow with others' moan!
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 re-

venge,

And now I cloy me with beholding it.
Thy Edward he is dead that killed 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 stabbed my Edward;
And the beholders of this tragic play,
The adulterate Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Grey,
Untimely smothered in their dusky graves.
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 conveyed 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 hunchbacked toad.
Q. Mar. I called thee then, "Vain flourish of
my fortune: "

I called 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 hurled down below:
A mother only mocked with two fair babes;
A dream of what thou wast; a garish flag,
To be the aim of every dangerous shot;
A sign of dignity, a breath, a bubble;