Anne. Adieu, poor foul, that tak'ft thy leave of it! Dutch. Go thou to Richmond, and good fortune guide thee!

[To Dorfet.

Go thou to Richard, and good Angels tend thee!

[To Anne.

Go thou to Sanctuary, good thoughts poffefs thee!
[To the Queen.
I to my grave, where peace and reft lye with me!
Eighty odd years of forrow have I feen,

And each hour's joy wreck'd with a week of teen.
Queen. Stay; yet look back, with me, unto the Tower.
Pity, you ancient ftones, those tender babes,
Whom envy hath immur'd within your walls!
Rough cradle for fuch little pretty ones!
Rude ragged nurfe! old fullen play-fellow,
For tender Princes; ufe my babies well!
So foolish forrow bids your ftones farewel.

[Exeunt.

SCENE changes to the Court.
Flourish of Trumpets. Enter Gloucefter as King,
Buckingham, Catesby.

K. Rich. Buck. My gracious Sovereign!
TAND all apart-Coufin of Buckingham,-

K. Rich. Give me thy hand. Thus high, by thy advice,

And thy affiftance, is King Richard seated:

But fhall we wear these glories for a day?

Or fhall they last, and we rejoice in them?

Buck. Still live they, and for ever let them laft! K. Rich. Ah, Buckingham, now do I play the touch, To try if thou be currant gold, indeed (10) Young Edward lives-think now, what I would fpeak. Buck.

(10) Ab! Buckingham, now do I play the Touch.] Mr. Warburton thinks, the technical Term is abfolutely requifite here, and that the Poet wrote;

-Now do I'ply the Touch.

i. e. apply the Touchstone; for that is meant by what he calls

Touch

Buck. Say on, my loving Lord.

K. Rich. Why, Buckingham, I fay, I would be King. Buck. Why, fo you are, my thrice-renowned Liege. K. Rich. Ha! am I King? 'tis fo

lives

Buck. True, noble Prince.

K. Rich. O bitter confequence!

-but Edward

That Edward still should live — true, noble Prince.
Coufin, thou wert not wont to be fo dull.
Shall I be plain? I wish the baftards dead;
And I would have it fuddenly perform'd.
What fay'st thou now? fpeak fuddenly, be brief.
Buck. Your Grace may do your pleasure.

K. Rich. Tut, tut, thou art all ice, thy kindness freezes ;

Say, have I thy confent that they shall die?

Buck. Give me fome breath, fome little paufe, dear Lord,

Before I pofitively speak in this:

I will refolve your Grace immediately.

[Exit Buck.

Catef. The King is angry; fee, he gnaws his lip.
K. Rich. I will converfe with iron-witted fools,
And unrespective boys; none are for me,
That look into me with confid❜rate eyes.
High-reaching Buckingham grows circumfpect.
Boy,

Page. My Lord.

K. Rich. Know'st thou not any, whom corrupting. gold

Would tempt unto a close exploit of death?

Page. I know a difcontented Gentleman,

Whole humble means match not his haughty spirit:
Gold were as good as twenty orators,

And will, no doubt, tempt him to any thing.
K. Rich. What is his name?

Touch.

So, again, in Timon of Athens, speaking of Gold, he fays;

-0, thou Touch of Hearts!

i. e, thou Trial, Touchstone,

VOL. V.

M

Page.

Page. His name, my Lord, is Tirrel.

K. Rich. I partly know the man; go call him hither. [Exit Boy.

The deep revolving witty Buckingham

No more fhall be the neighbour to my counfels.
Hath he fo long held out with me untir'd,
And stops he now for breath? well, be it fo.
Enter Stanley.

How now, Lord Stanley, what's the news?
Stan. My Lord,

The Marquifs Dorfet, as I hear, is fled

To Richmond, in the Parts where he abides.

K. Rich. Come hither, Catesby; rumour it abroad,
That Anne my wife is fick, and like to die.
I will take order for her keeping close.
Inquire me out fome mean-born gentleman,
Whom I will marry ftrait to Clarence' daughter.
(The boy is foolish, and I fear not him.)
Look, how thou dream'ft. I fay again, give out,
That Anne my Queen is fick, and like to die.
About it; for it stands me much upon

To ftop all hopes, whofe growth may damage me.
I must be married to my brother's daughter,
Or else my kingdom ftands on brittle glass:
Murther her brothers, and then marry her!
Uncertain way of gain! but I am in
So far in blood, that fin will pluck on fin.
Tear-falling pity dwells not in this eye.

Is thy name Tirrel?

Enter Tirrel.

Tir. James Tirrel, and your most obedient subject.

K. Rich. Art thou, indeed?

Tir. Prove me, my gracious Lord.

[He takes him afide.

K. Rich. Dar'ft thou refolve to kill a friend of mine?
Tir. Please you, I'd rather kill two enemies.

K. Rich. Why, then thou haft it; two deep enemies,
Foes to my reft, and my fweet fleep's difturbers,
Are they, that I would have thee deal upon;

Tirrel, I mean those bastards in the Tower.

Tir. Let me have open means to come to them,
And foon I'll rid you from the fear of them.
K. Rich. Thou fing'ft fweet mufick.

hither, Tirrel;

Go, by this token

There is no more but fo

rife, and lend thine ear

Hark, come

[Whispers.

-fay, it is done,

[Exit.

And I will love thee and prefer thee for it.

Tir. I will dispatch it strait.

Re-enter Buckingham.

Buck. My Lord, I have confider'd in my mind That late demand, that you did found me in.

K. Rich. Well, let that reft; Dorfet is fled to Richmond.

Buck. I hear the news, my Lord.

K. Rich. Stanley, he is your wife's fon; well, look to it.

Buck. My lord, I claim the gift, my due by promife, For which your honour and your faith is pawn'd; Th' Earldom of Hereford, and the moveables, Which you have promised I fhall poffefs.

K. Rich. Stanley, look to your wife; if she convey Letters to Richmond, you shall answer it.

Buck. What fays your Highnefs to my just request? K. Rich. I do remember me- Henry the fixth Did prophefie, that Richmond should be King, When Richmond was a little peevish boy.

A King, perhaps

Buck. My Lord,

K. Rich. How chance, the Prophet could not at that time

Have told me, I being by, that I fhould kill him?
Buck. My Lord, your promife for the Earldom-
K. Rich. Richmond? when I was last at Exeter,
The Mayor in curtefie fhewed me the caftle,
And call'd it Rougemont, at which name I started;
Because a bard of Ireland told me once,

I should not live long after I saw Richmond.

M 2

Buck.

Buck. My Lord,

K. Rich. Ay, what's o'clock?

Buck. I am thus bold to put your Grace in mind
Of what you promis'd me,

K. Rich. But what's o'clock ?
Buck. Upon the stroke of ten.
K. Rich. Well, let it strike.
Buck. Why, let it strike?

K. Rich. Becaufe, that, like a Jack, thou keep'ft the ftroke

Betwixt thy begging and my meditation.
I am not in the giving vein to day.

Buck. Why, then refolve me whe'r you will or no.
K. Rich. Thou troubleft me, I am not in the vein.

Buck. Is it even fo? repays he my deep fervice
With fuch contempt ? made I him King for this?
O, let me think on Haftings, and be gone
To Brecknock, while my fearful head is on.

Enter Tirrel.

Tir. The tyrannous and bloody act is done;
The most arch deed of piteous maffacre,
That ever yet this land was guilty of!
Dighton and Forrest, whom I did fuborn
To do this piece of ruthlefs butchery,
Albeit they were flefht villains, bloody dogs,
Melting with tenderness and mild compaffion,
Wept like two children, in their deaths' fad ftory.
O thus, (quoth Dighton) lay the gentle babes;
Thus, thus, (quoth Forrest,) girdling one another.
Within their innocent alabafter arms:

Their lips were four red roses on a stalk,
And in their fummer beauty kifs'd each other.
A book of prayers on their pillow lay,

[Exit.

[Exit.

Which once, (quoth Forrest,) almost chang'd my mind :
But, oh! the Devil- -there the villian stopt:
When Dighton thus told on-we fmothered
The most replenished fweet work of nature,
That from the prime creation e'er fhe framed..

Hence