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The marquis Dorset, as I hear, is fled
To Richmond, in the parts where he abides.

K. Rich. Come hither, Catesby: rumour it abroad,
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' daughter:-
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,
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 sub

ject. K. Rich. Art thou, indeed? Tyr.

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

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

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

o I will take order for her keeping close.] i. e. I will take measures that shall oblige her to keep close.

it stands me much upon,] i. e. it is of the utmost consequence to my designs.


Are they that I would have thee deal 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 musick. Hark, come

hither, Tyrrel; Go, by this token:-Rise, and lend thine ear:

[Whispers. There is no more but so:-Say, it is done, And I will love thee, and prefer thee for it. Tyr. I will despatch it straight.


Re-enter BUCKINGHAM. 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 pro

mise, For which

honour and


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 re-

K. Rich. I do remember me,-Henry the sixth
Did prophecy, that Richmond should be king,
When Richmond was a little peevish boy.
A king !-perhaps-

Buck. My lord,

deal upon :) i. e. act upon. We should now say-deal with; but the other was the phraseology of our author's time.

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,

K. Rich. Richmond !-When last I was at Exeter,
The mayor in courtesy show'd me the castle,
And calls 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. 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?

Upon the stroke Of ten.

K. Rich. Well, let it strike.5

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.

s Well, let it strike.] This seems to have been a proverbial sentence.

6 Because that, like a Jack,-) An image, like those at St. Dunstan's church in Fleet Street, and at the market houses at several towns in this kingdom, was usually called a Jack of the clock-house.

To Brecknock,] To the Castle of Brecknock in Wales, where the Duke of Buckingham's estate lay.


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: 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 pruyers on their pillow lay; Which once, quoth Forrest, almost chang’d my

mind; But, 0, the devilthere the villain stoppid; 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. Tyr.

I humbly take my leave. [Exit. K. Rich. The son of Clarence have I pen’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.

Enter CATESBY. Cate. My lord, K. Rich. Good news or bad, that thou com'st in

so bluntly? Cate. Bad news, my lord: Morton is filed to

Richmond; 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.


the Bretagne Richmond -] He thus denominates Richmond, because after the battle of Tewksbury he had taken refuge in the court of Francis II. Duke of Bretagne, where by the procurement of King Edward IV. he was kept a long time in a kind of honourable custody.

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