in courtesy show’d me the castleAnd call’d it Rougemount; at which name I started,
Because a bard of Ireland told me once
I should not live long after I saw Richmond.
BUCKINGHAM
My lord—
KING RICHARD
Ay, what’s o’clock?
BUCKINGHAM
I am thus bold to put your grace in mind
Of what you promis’d me.
KING RICHARD
Well, but what’s o’clock?
BUCKINGHAM
Upon the stroke of ten.
KING RICHARD
Well, let it strike.
BUCKINGHAM
Why let it strike?
KING RICHARD
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.
BUCKINGHAM
Why then, resolve me whether you will or no.
KING RICHARD
Thou troublest me; I am not in the vein.
[Exeunt KING RICHARD and Train.]
BUCKINGHAM
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.]
SCENE III. London. Another Room in the Palace
[Enter TYRREL.]
TYRREL
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, who I did suborn
To do this piece of ruthless butchery,
Albeit they were flesh’d villains, bloody dogs,
Melted with tenderness and mild compassion,
Wept like two children in their deaths’ 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,
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 replenishèd sweet work of nature
That from the prime creation e’er she framed.”—
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:—
And here he comes:—
[Enter KING RICHARD.]
All health, my sovereign lord!
KING RICHARD
Kind Tyrrel, am I happy in thy news?
TYRREL
If to have done the thing you gave in charge
Beget your happiness, be happy then,
For it is done.
KING RICHARD
But didst thou see them dead?
TYRREL
I did, my lord.
KING RICHARD
And buried, gentle Tyrrel?
TYRREL
The chaplain of the Tower hath buried them;
But where, to say the truth, I do not know.
KING RICHARD
Come to me, Tyrrel, soon, at after supper,
When thou shalt tell the process of their death.
Meantime, but think how I may do thee good,
And be inheritor of thy desire.
Farewell till then.
TYRREL
I humbly take my leave.
[Exit.]
KING RICHARD
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 the world goodnight.
Now, for I know the Britagne 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 RATCLIFF.]
RATCLIFF
My lord,—
KING RICHARD
