Pomfret. Before the Castle. |
|
Enter RATCLIFF, with halberds, carrying RIVERS, GREY, and VAUGHAN to death. |
Riv. Sir Richard Ratcliff, let me tell thee this: |
To-day shalt thou behold a subject die |
For truth, for duty, and for loyalty. |
Grey. God bless the prince from all the pack of you! |
A knot you are of damned blood-suckers. |
Vaugh. You live that shall cry woe for this hereafter. |
Rat. Dispatch; the limit of your lives is out. |
Riv. O Pomfret, Pomfret! O thou bloody prison! |
Fatal and ominous to noble peers! |
Within the guilty closure of thy walls |
Richard the Second here was hack'd to death; |
And, for more slander to thy dismal seat, |
We give thee up our guiltless blood to drink. |
Grey. Now Margaret's curse is fall'n upon our heads, |
When she exclaim'd on Hastings, you, and I, |
For standing by when Richard stabb'd her son. |
Riv. Then curs'd she Richard, then curs'd she Buckingham, |
Then curs'd she Hastings: O! remember. God, |
To hear her prayer for them, as now for us; |
And for my sister and her princely sons, |
Be satisfied, dear God, with our true blood, |
Which, as thou know'st, unjustly must be spilt. |
Rat. Make haste; the hour of death is expiate. |
Riv. Come, Grey, come, Vaughan; let us here embrace: |
And take our leave until we meet in heaven. [Exeunt. |
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