The young people of Shakespeare's dramas . ntleman, whose humble meansmatch not his haughty mind. K. Rich. I partly know the man ; Go, call himhither, boy— 94 EDWARD V, AND RICHARD, DUKE OF YORK, Is thy name Tyrrel ? Tyr. James Tyrrel, and your most obedient Rich. Art thou indeed ? Tyr. Prove me, my gracious lord. K. Rich. Darst thou resolve to kill a friend of mine 1Tyr. Please you; but I had rather kill two Rich. Why, then thou hast it; two deep to my rest, and my sweet sleeps disturbers,Are they that I would have thee deal upon:Tyrrel, I mean those bast
The young people of Shakespeare's dramas . ntleman, whose humble meansmatch not his haughty mind. K. Rich. I partly know the man ; Go, call himhither, boy— 94 EDWARD V, AND RICHARD, DUKE OF YORK, Is thy name Tyrrel ? Tyr. James Tyrrel, and your most obedient Rich. Art thou indeed ? Tyr. Prove me, my gracious lord. K. Rich. Darst thou resolve to kill a friend of mine 1Tyr. Please you; but I had rather kill two Rich. Why, then thou hast it; two deep to my rest, and my sweet sleeps disturbers,Are they that I would have thee deal upon:Tyrrel, I mean those bastards in the Tower. Tyr. Let me have open means to come to soon Ill rid you from the fear of them. K. Rich. Thou singst sweet music. Hark, comehither, Tyrrel;Go, by this token:—Rise, and lend thine ear: [ is no more but so; say, it is I will love thee, and prefer thee for I will dispatch it straight. The consummation of this bloody tragedyTyrrel tells himself in the Third Scene of theFourth EDWARD V,AND RICHARD, DUKE OF YORK. 95 Enter The tyrannous and bloody act is done;The most arch deed of piteous massacreThat ever yet this land was guilty , and Forrest, whom I did subornTo do this piece of ruthless butchery,Albeit they were fleshd villains, bloody dogs,Melting with tenderness and mild like two children, in their deaths sad thus, quoth Dighton, lay the gentle babes,—Thus, thus, quoth Forrest, girdling one anotherWithin their alabaster innocent arms:Their lips were four red roses on a stalk,Which, in their sumjuer beauty, kissd each book of prayers on their pillow lay jWhich once, quoth Forrest, almost changed my mindjBut, O, the devil—there the villain stoppd:When Dighton thus told on—we smotheredThe 77iost replenished sweet work of Nature,That, from the prime creation, eer she franid.—Hence both are gone with conscience and remorse;They could not speak; and so I l
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