Tirrel.
Come, gentlemen,
Have you concluded on the means?

Forest.
Smothering will make no noise, sir.

Tirrel.
Let it be done i'th' dark—for should you see
Their young faces, who knows how far their looks
Of innocence may tempt you into pity?
Stand back—Lieutenant, have you brought the keys? Enter Lieutenant.

Lieut.
I have 'em, sir.

Tirrel.
Then here's your warrant to deliver 'em. [Giving a Ring.

Lieut.
Your servant, sir.
What can this mean! why at this dead of night
To give 'em too! 'Tis not for me t'inquire. [Exit.

Tirrel.
There, gentlemen;
That way—you have no farther need of me. [Exeunt severally. Enter Glo'ster.

Glo'st.
Would it were done:
There is a busy something here,
That foolish custom has made terrible,
To the intent of evil deeds; and nature too,
As if she knew me womanish, and weak,
Tugs at my heart-strings with complaining cries,
To talk me from my purpose—
And then the thought of what men's tongues will say,
Of what their hearts must think;
To have no creature love me living, nor
My memory when dead.
Shall future ages, when these children's tale
Is told, drop tears in pity of their hapless fate,

And read with detestation the misdeeds of Glo'ster,
* ^noteThe crook-back'd tyrant, cruel, barbarous,
And bloody?—will they not say too,
That to possess the crown, nor laws divine
Nor human stopt my way?—Why let 'em say it;
They can't but say I had the crown;
I was not fool as well as villain.
Hark! the murder's doing: princes, farewel;
To me there's musick in your passing-bell. [Exit. Enter Tirrel.

Tirrel.
'Tis done; the barbarous bloody act is done.
Ha! the king—his coming hither, at this
Late hour, speaks him impatient for the news. Enter Glo'ster.

Glo'st.
Now, my Tirrel, how are the brats dispos'd?
Say, am I happy? hast thou dealt upon 'em?

Tirrel.
If to have done the thing you gave in charge,
Beget your happiness—then, sir, be happy, for it is done.

Glo'st.
But did'st thou see 'em dead?

Tirrel.
I did, my lord.

Glo'st.
And bury'd, my good Tirrel?

Tirrel.
In that I thought to ask your grace's pleasure.

Glo'st.
I have it—I'll have 'em sure—get me a coffin
Full of holes, let 'em be both cram'd into it,
And hark thee, in the night-tide throw 'em down
The Thames—once in, they'll find the way to the bottom;
Mean time, but think how I may do thee good,
And be inheritor of thy desire.

Tirrel.
I humbly thank your highness.

Glo'st.
About it strait, good Tirrel.

Tirrel.
Conclude it done, my lord. [Exit.

Glo'st.
Why then my loudest fears are hush'd,
The sons of Edward have eternal rest,
And Anne my wife has bid this world good-night;

While fair Elizabeth, my beauteous niece,
Like a new morn, lights onward to my wishes. Enter Catesby.

Catesby.
My lord—

Glo'st.
Good news, or bad, that thou com'st in so bluntly?

Catisby.
Bad news, my lord; Morton is fled to Richmond,
And Buckingham, back'd with the hardy Welshmen,
Is in the field, and still his power increases.

Glo'st.
Morton with Richmond touches me more near,
Than Buckingham, and his rash levy'd numbers.
But come, dangers retreat, when boldly they're confronted,
And dull delays lead impotence and fear;
Then fiery expedition raise my arm,
And fatal may it fall on crush'd rebellion!
Let's muster men, my council is my shield,
We must be brief when traitors brave the field. [Exit.

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