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A book of prayers on their pillow lay:
Which once, quoth Forrest, almost chang'd my mind;
Enter King Richard.
And here he comes :-All health, my sovereign lord!
Tyr. I did, my lord.
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.
I humbly take my leave.. [Exit. K. Rich. The son of Clarence have I penn'd up close;
But didst thou see them dead?
His daughter meanly have I match'd in marriage;
* The country in which Richmond had taken refuge. VOL. VII.
Cate. My lord,
K. Rich. Good news or bad, that thou com'st in so bluntly?
Cate. Bad news, my lord: Morton* is fled to Richmond;
And Buckingham, back'd with the hardy Welchmen, Is in the field, and still his power increaseth.
K. Rich. Ely with Richmond troubles me more
Than Buckingham and his rash-levied strength. Come,-I have learn'd, that fearful commenting Is leaden servitor to dull delay;
Delay leads impotent and snail-pac'd beggary :
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 lurk'd, 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
Enter Queen Elizabeth and the Duchess of York. Q. Eliz. Ah, my poor princes! ah, my tender babes!
My unblown flowers, new-appearing sweets!
Q. Mar. Hover about her; say, that right for right Hath dimm'd your infant morn to aged night.
Duch. So many miseries have craz'd 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 lambs,
And throw them in the entrails of the wolf?
Woe's scene, world's shame, grave's due by life usurp❜d,
Brief abstract and record of tedious days,
[Sitting down. Unlawfully made drunk with innocent blood!
Q. Eliz. Ah, that thou would'st as soon afford a grave,
As thou canst yield a melancholy seat;
[Sitting down by her.
Q. Mar. If ancient sorrow be most reverent,