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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.
Tyr. The tyrannous and bloody act is done; The most arch-deed of piteous massacre, That ever yet this land was guilt 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. 0, 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 prayers on their pillow lay; Which once, quoth Forrest, almost chang'd my mind; But, 0, the devil—there the villain stopp'd ; When Dighton thus told on, -we smothered The most replenished sweet work of nature, That, from the prime creation, e'er she
f an'd. Hence both are gone with conscience and remorse,
They could not speak; and so I left them both,
Enter King RICHARD.
K. Rich. Kind Tyrrel! am I happy in thy news?
Tyr. If to have done the thing you gave in charge
K. Rich. But didst thou see them dead?
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. [Erit. K. Rich. The son of Clarence have I pennd 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,
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
The Same. Before the Palace.
Enter Queen MARGARET.