SCENE III.
The Same.
Enter Tyrrel8 note.
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 ruthful butchery,
Albeit they were flesh'd villains, bloody dogs,
Melted with tenderness and mild compassion,
Wept like to children in their death's sad story. 11Q0781
“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,
And 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, O! 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 fram'd.”
Hence both are gone with conscience and remorse:
-- 448 --
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 lord9 note!
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 did'st 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 know1 note.
K. Rich.
Come to me, Tyrrel, soon, and 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 leave2 note.
[Exit.
K. Rich.
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 this world good night.
Now, for I know the Bretagne Richmond aims
-- 449 --
At young Elizabeth, my brother's daughter,
And by that knot looks proudly on the crown3 note,
To her go I, a jolly thriving wooer.
Enter Catesby.
Cate.
My lord!—
K. Rich.
Good or bad news, that thou com'st in so bluntly?
Cate.
Bad news, my lord: Morton is fled to Richmond4 note;
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 strength5 note.
Come; I have learn'd, that fearful commenting
Is leaden servitor to dull delay;
Delay leads impotent and snail-pac'd beggary:
Then, fiery expedition be my wing,
Jove's Mercury, and herald for a king.
Go, muster men: my counsel is my shield;
We must be brief, when traitors brave the field.
[Exeunt.
J. Payne Collier [1842–1844], The works of William Shakespeare. The text formed from an entirely new collation of the old editions: with the various readings, notes, a life of the poet, and a history of the Early English stage. By J. Payne Collier, Esq. F.S.A. In eight volumes (Whittaker & Co. [etc.], London) [word count] [S10101].
