Act III.
Scene III.
Scene III.—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.
Faugh. 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 fallen 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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