fdc SCENE III. The same
Enter TYRREL.
♦
Tyr.
The tyrannous and bloody deed is done,
♦
The most arch act of piteous massacre
That ever yet this land was guilty of.
♦
Dighton and Forrest, whom I did suborn
5
To do this ruthless piece of butchery,
♦
Although they were flesh’d villains, bloody dogs,
♦
Melting with tenderness and kind compassion
♦
Wept like two children in their deaths’ sad stories.
♦ ‘Lo, thus,’ quoth Dighton, ‘lay those tender babes:’
10 ‘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;
15
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.’
20
Thus both are gone with conscience and remorse;
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?
25
Tyr.
If to have done the thing you gave in charge
Beget your happiness, be happy then,
For it is done, my lord.
Tyr.
I did, my lord.
K. Rich.
And buried, gentle Tyrrel?
Tyr.
The chaplain of the Tower hath buried them;
30
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,
And be inheritor of thy desire.
35
Farewell till soon. [Exit Tyrrel.
♦
The son of Clarence have I pent 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.
40
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.
Enter Catesby.
♦
Cate.
My lord!
45
K. Rich.
Good news or bad, that thou comest 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
50
Than Buckingham and his rash-levied army.
♦
Come, I have heard that fearful commenting
Is leaden servitor to dull delay;
♦
Delay leads impotent and snail-paced beggary:
♦
Then fiery expedition be my wing,
55
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.
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