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Act 4, Scene 2
Richard III Translation Act 4, Scene 3
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, whom I did suborn To do this piece of ruthless butchery, Albeit they were fleshed villains, bloody dogs, Melted with tenderness and mild compassion, Wept like two children in their deaths' sad story. “O thus” quoth Dighton, “lay those 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 kissed each other. A book of prayers on their pillow lay, Which once,” quoth Forrest, “almost changed my mind, But O, the devil—”There the villain stopped; When Dighton thus told on: “We smotherèd 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.
TYRREL
The tyrannous and bloody act is done. It was the worst, most horrible massacre of which this land has ever been guilty. Dighton and Forrest—whom I hired to do this piece of ruthless butchery—are experienced villains. They are like bloody hunting dogs. But even they melted with tenderness and compassion, and wept like children when they told the sad story of what they'd done. "The gentle children lay like this," Dighton said. "Like this," said Forrest, "embracing each other with their white innocent arms. Their lips were touching, like four red roses on a stalk. And a prayer book lay on their pillow," said Forrest, "which almost made me change my mind. But oh, the devil—" And there the villain stopped talking, and Dighton continued the tale: "We smothered the most perfect, sweet work that nature ever created." Both men were crushed with remorse, so that they couldn't speak any more. I left them both to bring this news to the bloody king.
Enter RICHARD
And here he comes.—All health, my sovereign lord.
And here he comes.
[To RICHARD] All health to you, my sovereign lord.
RICHARD
Kind Tyrrel, am I happy in thy news?
RICHARD
Kind Tyrrel, will your news make me happy?
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TYRREL
If to have done the thing you gave in chargeBeget your happiness, be happy then,For it is done.
TYRREL
If the completion of your task will make you happy, be happy then. For it is done.
RICHARD
But did’st thou see them dead?
RICHARD
But did you see them dead?
TYRREL
I did, my lord.
TYRREL
I did, my lord.
RICHARD
And buried, gentle Tyrrel?
RICHARD
And buried, gentle Tyrrel?
TYRREL
The chaplain of the Tower hath buried them, But where, to say the truth, I do not know.
TYRREL
The chaplain of the Tower has buried them. But to tell you the truth, I don't know where.
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.
RICHARD
Tyrrel, come back to me soon after dessert, and tell me the details of their deaths. In the meantime, think about how I can reward you with whatever you desire. Farewell until then.
TYRREL
I humbly take my leave.
TYRREL
I humbly leave you.
Exit TYRREL
RICHARD
The son of Clarence have I pent up close, His daughter meanly have I matched in marriage, The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham’s bosom, And Anne my wife hath bid this world goodnight. Now, for I know the Breton 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.
RICHARD
I have Clarence's son locked up, and Clarence's daughter married off to a poor fellow. Edward's sons are sleeping in heaven, and my wife Anne has bid this world goodnight. But I know that Richmond aims to marry young Elizabeth—my brother Edward's daughter—and win the crown through that match. So now I go to her: a jolly, lively wooer.
Enter RATCLIFFE
RATCLIFFE
My lord!
RATCLIFFE
My lord!
RICHARD
Good or bad news, that thou com’st in so bluntly?
RICHARD
Is it good news or bad news, that you come bursting in here?
RATCLIFFE
Bad news, my lord. Morton is fled to Richmond,And Buckingham, backed with the hardy Welshmen,Is in the field, and still his power increaseth.
RATCLIFFE
Bad news, my lord. The Bishop of Ely has fled to Richmond. And Buckingham, backed by his army of hardy Welshmen, is on the march, his power still growing.
RICHARD
Ely with Richmond troubles me more near Than Buckingham and his rash-levied strength. Come, I have learned that fearful commenting Is leaden servitor to dull delay; Delay leads impotent and snail-paced 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.
RICHARD
Ely joining Richmond troubles me more than Buckingham and his hastily raised army. Come, I have learned that frightened talk only leads to delay, and delay leads to slow ruin. Fiery speed will be my course of action. I will be Jupiter, with wing-footed Mercury as my messenger. Go, rally men to fight. My sword will be my advisor. We must act quickly when traitors march to war.
Exeunt
