Tear-falling pity dwells not in this eye.

Enter Page, with Tym^el.
Is thy name Tyrrel ?

Tyr. James Tyrrel, and your most obedient

subject.
K. Rich. Art thou, indeed ?

7 O 209



King Richard 111

Tyr. Prove me, my gracious lord.

K. Rich. Dar'st thou resolve to kill a friend

of mine ?
Tyr. Please you ; but I had rather kill two

enemies.
K. Rich. Why, then thou hast it; two deep
enemies,
Foes to my rest and my sweet sleep's disturbers,
Ai'e 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 them,
And soon I '11 rid you from the fear of them.
K. Rich. Thou sing'st sweet music. Hark,
come hither, Tyrrel ;
Go, by this token. Rise, and lend thine ear.

[ WJiispers.
There is no more but so ; — say it is done.
And I will love thee and prefer thee for it.
Tyr. I will dispatch it straight. [Eocit.

Enter Buckingham.

Buck. My lord, I have consider'd in my mind
The late demand that you did sound me in.
K. Rich. Well, let that rest. Dorset is fled to

Richmond.
Buck. I hear that news, my lord.
K. Rich. Stanley, he is your wife's son ; well,

look unto it.
Buck. My lord, I claim the gift, my due by
promise.
For which your honour and your faith is pawn'd ;
The earldom of Hereford and the movables
Which you have promised I shall possess.
K. Rich. Stanley, look to your wife ; if she
convey
Letters to Richmond, you shall answer it.



Act IV Scene 2

Buck. What says your highness to my just

request ?
K. Rich. I do remember me, — Henry the Sixth
Did prophesy that Richmond should be king,
When Richmond was a Uttle peevish boy.
A king 1 — perhaps —
Buck. My lord,—

K. Rich. How chance the prophet could not
at that time
Have told me, I being by, that I should kill him ?
Buck. My lord, your promise for the earl-
dom; —
K. Rich. Richmond ! When last I was at
Exeter,
The mayor in courtesy show'd me the castle,
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.
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. Well, but what 's o'clock ?
Block. Upon the stroke of ten.

K. Rich. Well, let it strike.
Buck. Why let it strike?

K. Rich. Because that, like a Jack, thou
keep'st the stroke
Betwixt thy begging and my meditation.
I am not in the giving vein to-day.
Buck. Why, then resolve me whether you

will or no.
K. Rich. Tut, tut.
Thou trou blest me ; I am not in the vein.

[Exeunt King Richard and Train.



King Richard III

B^irk. And is it thus? repays he my deep service
With such contempt? made I him king for this?
O, let me think on Hastings, and be gone
To Brecknock, while my fearful head is on.

[Exit.
Scene 3.— The Same.
Enter Tyrrel.
Tyr. 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 ruthful butchery.
Albeit they were flesh'd villains, bloody dogs,
Melted with tenderness and mild compassion.
Wept like two children in their death's sad story.
' O, thus,' quoth Dighton, ' lay the gentle babes,'
'Thus, thus,' quoth Forrest, 'girdling one

another
WMthin their alabaster innocent arms ;
Their lips were four red roses on a stalk.
And in their summer beauty kiss'd each other.
A book of prayers on their pillow lay.
Which once,' quoth Forrest, 'almost chang'd

my mind ;
But, O, the devil'— there the villain stopp'd ;
When Dighton thus told on,—' W^e smothered
The most replenished sweet work of Nature
That from the prime creation e'er she fram'd.'
Hence both are gone with conscience and re-
morse,
They could not speak ; and so I left them both.
To bear this tidings to the bloody king.

Enter King Richard.
And here he comes.— All health, my sovereign
lord!



Act IV Scene 3

K. Rich. Kind Tyriel, am I happy in thy

news ?
Ty7\ If to have done the thing you gave in
charge
Beget your happiness, be happy then.
For it is done.
K. Rich . But didst thou see them dead ?
Tyr. I did, my lord.

K. Rich. And buried, gentle Tyrrel ?

Tyr. The chaplain of the Tower hath buried
them ;
But where, to say the truth, I do not know.
K. Rich. Come to me, Tyrrel, soon, and after
supper.
When thou shalt tell the process* of their [story

death.
Meantime, but think how I may do thee good,
And be inheritor of thy desire.
Farewell till then.

Tyr. I humbly take my leave. [Ejnt.

K. Rich. The son of Clarence have I pent
up close ;
His daughter meanly have I match'd in mar-
riage ;
The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham's bosom.
And Anne my wife hath bid this world good

night.
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.

Enter Catesby.

Gate. My lord !

K. Ricli. Good or bad news, that thou com'st
in so bluntly ?

ai3



King Richard III

Cate. Bad news, my lord ; Morton is fled to

Richmond,
And Buckingliani, Iwick'd with the hardy

Welshmen,
Is in the field, and still his power increaseth.
K. Rich. Ely with Richmond troubles me

more near
Than Buckingham and his rash-levied strength.
Come, I have learn'd that fearful commenting
Is leaden servitor to dull delay ;
Delay leads impotent and snail-pac'd 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.

[Exeunt,

Scene 4.— Before the Palace.
Enter Queen Margaret.
Q. Mar. So, now prosperity begins to mellow
And drop into the rotten mouth of death.
Here in these confines slyly have I lurk'd.
To watch the waning of mine enemies.
A dire induction am I witness to,
And will to Prance, hoping the consequence
Will prove as bitter, black, and tragical.
Withdraw thee, wretched Margaret ; who comes

here? [Retiring.

Enter Queen Elizabeth and the DuAihess of York.
Q. Eliz. Ah, my poor princes I ah, my tender
babes !
My unblown flowers, new-appearing sweets 1
If yet your gentle souls fly in the air,
And be not fix'd in doom perpetual.
Hover about me with your airy wings,
And hear your mother's lamentation 1

214



Act IV Scene 4

Q. Mar. Hover about her ; say that right for
right
Hath dimm'd your infant morn to aged night.

Duch. So many miseries have craz'd my voice,
That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute.
Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead ?

Q. Mar. Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet,
Edward for Edward pays a dying debt.
Q. Eliz. Wilt thou, O God, fly from such
gentle lambs,
And throw them in the entrails of the wolf ?
When didst thou sleep when such a deed was
done ?
Q. Mar. When holy Harry died, and my

sweet son.
Dtoch. Dead life, blind sight, poor mortal
living ghost.
Woe's scene, world's shame, grave's due by life

usurp'd.
Brief abstract and record of tedious days,
Rest thy unrest on England's lawful earth,

{Sitting dozen.
Unlawfully made drunk with innocent blood !
Q. Eliz. Ah, that thou wouldst as soon afford
a grave
As thou canst yield a melancholy seat !
Then would I hide my bones, not rest them here.
Ah, who hath any cause to mourn but we ?

[Sitting down by her.
Q. Mar. If ancient sorrow be most reverent,

[ Co7}i irig forward.
Give mine the benefit of seniory.
And let my griefs frown on the upper hand.
If sorrow can admit society,

[Sitting down with them.
Tell o'er your woes again by viewing mine.

215



King Richard III

I had an Edward till a Richard kill'd him ;
I had a Harry till a Kicluird kill'd him :
Thou hadst an Edward till a Richard kill'd him ;
Thou hadst a Richard till a Richard kill'd him.

Diirh. I had a Richard too, and thou didst kill
him ;
I had a Rutland too, thou holp'st to kill him.

Q. Mar. Thou hadst a Clarence too, and
Richard kill'd him.
From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept
A hell-hound that doth hunt us all to death ;
That dog that had his teeth before his eyes,
To worry lambs and lap their gentle blood.
That foul defacer of God's handiwork,
That excellent grand tyrant of the earth,
That reigns in galled eyes of weeping souls.
Thy wouab let loose to chase us to our graves.
O upright, just, and true-disposing God,
How do I thank thee that this carnal cur
Preys on the issue of his mother's body.
And makes her pew-fellow with others' moan I

Duch . O, Harry's wife, t riumph not in m y woes !
God witness with me, 1 have wept for thine.

Q. Mar. Bear with me; I am hungry for
revenge,
And now I cloy me with beholding it.
Thy Edward he is dead, that kill'd my Edward ;
Thy other Edward dead, to quit my Edward ;
Young York he is but boot,* because [a make-weight

both they
Match not the high perfection of my loss.
Thy Clarence he is dead, that stabb'd my Edward ;
And the beholders of this frantic play,
Th' adulterate Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Gi-ey,
Untimely smother'd in their dusky gi-aves.
Richard yet lives, hell's black intelligencer,

316



Act IV Scene 4

Only reserv'd their factor to buy souls
And send them thither ; but at hand, at hand,
Ensues his piteous and unpitied end :
Earth gapes, hell burns, fiends roar, saints pray,
To have him suddenly convey'd from hence. —
Cancel his bond of life, dear God, I pray,
That I may live to say. The dog is dead !
Q. Eliz. O, thou didst prophesy the time

would come
That I should wish for thee to help me curse
That bottled spider, that foul bunch-back'd toad I
Q. Mar. I call'd thee then vain flourish of my

fortune ;
I call'd thee then poor shadow, painted queen ;
The presentation of but what I was,
The flattering index of a direful pageant.
One heav'd a-high, to be hurl'd down below :
A mother only mock'd with two fair babes ;
A dream of what thou wast ; a garish flag.
To be the aim of every dangerous shot ;
A sign of dignity, a breath, a bubble ;
A queen in jest, only to fill the scene.
Where is thy husband now ? where be thy

brothers ?
Where be thy two sons? wherein dost thou

joy?

Who sues, and kneels, and says, God save the

queen ?
Where be the bending peers that flattered thee ?
Where be the thronging troops that followed

thee ? [run through

Decline* all this, and see what now thou art.
For happy wife, a most distressed widow ;
For joyful mother, one that wails the name ;
For one being sued to, one that humbly sues ;
For queen, a very caitiff crown'd with care :

217



King Kichard III

For one th.it scorn'd at me, now scom'd of me ;
For one being fear'd of all, now fearing one ;
For one commanding all, obey'd of none.
Thus hath the course of justice wheel'd about,
And left thee but a very prey to time ;
Having no more but thought of what thou wast
To torture thee the more, being what thoii art.
Thou didst usurp my place, and dt)st thou not
Usurp the just proportion of my sorrow?
Now thy proud neck bears half ray burthen'd

yoke;
From which even here I slip my wearied head,
And leave the burthen of it all on thee.
Farewell, York's wife, and queen of sad mis-
chance ;
These English woes shall make me smile in

France.
Q. Eliz. O thou well skill'd in curses, stay a

while.
And teach me how to curse mine enemies.
Q. Mar. Forbear to sleep the night, and fast

the day ;
Compare dead happiness with living woe ;
Think that thy babes were sweeter than they

were,
And he that slew them fouler than he is :
Bettering thy loss makes the bad causer worse ;
Revolving this will teach thee how to curse.
Q. Eliz. My words are dull ; O, quicken them

with thine !
Q. Mar. Thy woes will make them sharp, and

pierce like mine. {E.i^it Queen Margaret.
Duck. Why should calamity be full of words ?
Q. Eliz. Windy attorneys to their client woes,
Airy succeeders of intestate joys.
Poor breathing orators of miseries !



Act IV Scene 4

Let them have scope ; though what they will

impart
Help not at all, yet do they ease the heart.
Duch. If so, then be not tongue-tied ; go with

me.
And in the breath of bitter words let 's smother
My damned son, that thy two sweet sons

smother'd. [A trumpet heard.

The trumpet sounds ; be copious in exclaims.

Enter King Richard and his train, marching.

K. Rich. Who intercepts m« in my expedi-
tion?
Duch. O, she that might have intercepted thee.
By strangling thee in her accursed womb.
From all the slaughters, wretch, that thou hast
done.
Q. Eliz. Hid'st thou that forehead with a
golden crown,
Where should be branded, if that right were

right,
The slaughter of the prince that owed* [owned

that crown,
And the dire death of my poor sons and

brothei's ?
Tell me, thou villain slave, where are my
children ?
Dnch. Thou toad, thou toad, where is thy
brother Clarence,
And little Ned Plantagenet, his son ?

Q. Eliz. Where is the gentle Rivers, Vaughan,

Grey ?
Duch. Where is kind Hastings ?
K. Rich. A flourish, trumpets! strike alarum,
drums!
Let not the heavens hear these tell-tale women

219



Kino: Ricliard III



Rail on the Lord's anointed. Strike, I say !

[Flourish. Alarums.
Either be patient and entreat me fair,
Or with the clamorous report of war
Thus will I drown your exclamations.
Ditch. Art thou my son ?
K. Rich. Ay, I thank God, my father, and

yom-self.
Diich. Then patiently hear my impatiiMU-e.
K. Ricli. Madam, I have a touch of your con-
dition.
That cannot brook the accent of reproof.
Duck. O, let me speak.

K. Rich. Do, then ; but I '11 not hear.

Duch. I will be mild and gentle in my words.
K. Rich. And brief, good mother, for I am in

haste.
Duch. Art thou so hasty? I have stay'd for
thee,
God knows, in torment and in agony.
K. Rich. And came I not at last to comfort you?
Duch. No, by the holy rood, thou know'st it
well.
Thou cam'st on earth to make the earth my hell.
A grievous burthen was thy birth to me :
Tetchy and wayward was thy infancy ;
Thy school-days frightful, desperate, wild, and

furious ;
Thy prime of manhood daring, bold, and ven-
turous ;
Thy age confirm'd, proud, subtle, sly, and bloody,
]\lore mild but yet more harmful, kind in hatred :
What comfortable hour canst thou name
That ever grac'd me with thy company ?

K. Rich. Faith, none, but Humphrey Hour,
that call'd your grace



Act IV Scene 4

To breakfast once forth of my company.

If I be so disgracious in your eye.

Let me march on, and not offend you, madam. —

Strike up the drum !

Duxh. I prithee hear me speak.

K. Rich. You speak too bitterly.

Duch. Hear me a word ;

For I shall never speak to thee again.

K. Rich. So.

Duch. Either thou wilt die by God's just
ordinance,
Ere from this war thou turn a conqueror.
Or I with grief and extreme age shall perish,
And never more behold thy face again.
Therefore take with thee my most grievous curse.
Which in the day of battle tire thee more
Than all the complete armour that thou wear'st I
My prayers on the adverse party fight ;
And there the little souls of Edward's children
Whisper the spirits of thine enemies.
And promise them success and victory.
Bloody thou art, bloody will be thy end ;
Shame serves thy life, and doth thy death
attend. [Exit.

Q. Eliz. Though far more cause, yet much less
spirit to curse
Abides in me ; I say amen to her. [Goiyig.

K. Rich. Stay, madam, I must talk a word
with you.

Q. Eliz. I have no more sons of the royal blood
For thee to slaughter ; for my daughters,

Richard,
They shall be praying nuns, not weeping queens,
And therefore level not to hit their lives.

K. Rich. You have a daughter call'd Elizabeth,
Virtuous and fair, royal and gracious.



King Kichard 111

Q. Eliz. And must she die for this ! O, let her
live,
And I '11 corrupt her mannens, stain her beauty,
Slander myself as false to Edward's bed,
Throw over her the veil ot infamy
So she may live unscarr'd of bleeding slaughter,
1 will confess she was not Edward's daughter.
K. Rich. Wrong not her birth ; she is a royal

princess.
Q. Eliz. To save her life, I '11 say she is not so.
K. Rich. Her life is safest only in her birth.
Q. Eliz. And only in that safety died her

brothers.
K. Rich. Lo, at their birth good stars were

opposite.
Q. Eliz. No, to their lives ill friends were

contrary.
K. Rich. All unavoided is the doom of destiny.
Q. Eliz. True, when avoided grace makes
destiny.
My babes were destin'd to a fairer death.
If grace had bless'd thee with a fairer life.
K. Rich. You speak as if that I had slain my

cousins.
Q. Eliz. Cousins, indeed ; and by their uncle
cozen'd
Of comfort, kingdom, kindred, freedom, life.
Whose hand soever lanc'd their tender hearts.
Thy head, all indirectly, gave direction :
No doubt the murtherous knife was dull and

blunt
Till it was whetted on thy stone-hard heart
To revel in the entrails of my lambs.
But that still use of grief makes wild grief tame.
My tongue should to thy ears not name my
boys



Act IV Scene 4

Till that my nails were anchor'd in thine eyes ;
And I, in such a desperate bay of death,
Like a poor bark, of sails and tackling reft,
Rush all to pieces on thy rocky bosom.

K. Rich. Madam, so thrive I in my enterprise
And dangerous success of bloody wars
As I intend more good to you and yours
Than ever you or yours by me were harm'd !
Q. Eliz. What good is cover'd with the face
of heaven,
To be discover'd, that can do me good ?
K. Rich. The advancement of your childi'en,

gentle lady.
Q. Eliz. Up to some scaffold, there to lose

their heads ?
K. Rich. Unto the dignity and height of
fortune,
The high imperial type of this earth's glory.

Q. Eliz. Flatter my sorrow with report of it ;
Tell me what state, what dignity, what honour.
Canst thou demise to any child of mine ?
K. Rich. Even all I have ; ay, and myself
and all,
Will I withal endow a child of thine.
So in the Lethe of thy angry soul
Thou drown the sad remembrance of those

wrongs
Which thou supposest I have done to thee.
Q. Eliz. Be brief, lest that the process of thy
kindness
Last longer telling than thy kindness' date.
K. Rich. Then know that from my soul I love

thy daughter.
Q. Eliz. My daughter's mother thinks it with

her soul.
K, Rich. What do you think ?

223



Kiiiii^ Ricliiird Til

Q. Eliz. That thou dost love my daughter
from thy soul.
So from thy soul's love didst thou love her

brothers ;
And from my heart's love I do thank thee
for it.

K. Rich. Be not so hasty to confound my
meaning.
I mean, that with my soul I love thy daughter,
And do intend to make her queen of England.

Q. Eliz. Well, then, who dost thou mean shall
be her king?

K. KU'h. Even he that makes her queen ; who
else should be ?

Q. Eliz. What, thou?

A'. Ricli. Even so ; how think you of it?

Q. Eliz. How canst thou woo her?

K. Rich. That I woxdd learn of you.

As one being best acquainted with her humour.

Q. Eliz. And wilt thou learn of me ?

K. Rich. Madam, with all my heart.

Q. Eliz. Send to her, by the man that slew
her brothers,
A pair of bleeding hearts ; thereon engrave
Edward and York ; then haply will she weep :
Therefore present to her— as sometime Margaret
Did to thy father, steep'd in Rutland's blood—
A handkerchief, which, say to her, did drain
The purple sap from her sweet brothers' biidies.
And bid her wipe her weeping eyes withal.
If this inducement move her not to love.
Send her a letter of thy noble deeds :
Tell her thou mad'st away her uncle Clarence,
Her uncle Rivers ; ay, and for her sake,
Mad'st quick conveyance with her good aunt

Anne.

334



Act IV Scene 4

K. Rich. You mock me, madam ; this is not
the way
To win your daughter.

Q. Eliz. There is no other way,

Unless thou couldst put on some other shape,
And not be Richard that hath done all this.

K. Rich. Say that I did all this for love of
her?

Q. Eliz. Nay, then indeed she cannot choose
but hate thee.
Having bought love with such a bloody spoil.

K. Rich. Look, what is done cannot be now
amended ;
Men shall deal unadvisedly sometimes.
Which after-hours give leisure to repent.
If I did take the kingdom from your sons,
To make amends I '11 give it to your daughter.
If I have kill'd the issue of your womb.
To quicken your increase I will beget
Mine issue of your blood upon your daughter.
A grandam's name is little less in love
Than is the doting title of a mother :
They are as children but one step below.
Even of your mettle, of your very blood ;
Of all one pain, save for a night of groans
Endur'd of her for whom you bid like sorrow.
Your children were vexation to your youth.
But mine shall be a comfort to your age.
The loss you have is but a son, being king.
And by that loss your daughter is made queen.
I cannot make you what amends I would.
Therefore accept such kindness as I can.
Dorset your son, that with a fearful soul
Leads discontented steps in foreign soil.
This fair alliance quickly shall call home
To high promotions and great dignity,

7 P 225



Kins: Kichard ITT

The king tliatcallsyourbeauteoiisdaughterwife,
Familiarly shall call thy Dorset brother;
Again shall you be mother to a king,
And all the ruins of distressful times
Repair'd with double riches of content.
AVhat ! we liav'e many goodly days to see :
The liquid drops of tears that you have shed
Shall come again, transform'd to orient pearl,
Advantaging their loan with interest
Of ten-times-double gain of happiness.
Go then, my mother, to thy daughter go :
Make bold her bashful years with your experi-
ence;
Prepare her ears to hear a wooer's tale ;
Put in her tender heart the aspiring flame
Of golden sovereignty ; acquaint the princess
With the sweet silent hours of marriage joys :
And when this arm of mine hath chastised
The petty rebel, dull-brain'd Buckingham,
Bound with triumphant garlands will I come,
And lead thy daughter to a conqueror's bed ;
To whom I will retail my conquest won.
And she shall bo sf)le victress, Ca>sai"'s Ca»sar.

Q. Fliz. What were I best to say? her father's
bi-other
Would be her lord? Or shall I say her uncle?
Or he that slew her brothers and her uncles ?
Under what title shall I woo for thee.
That God, the law, my honour, and her love
Can make seem pleasing to her tender years?

K. liich. Infer fair England's peace by this
alliance.

Q, Eliz. Which she shall purchase with still-
lasting war.

K. Rich. Tell her the king, that may command,
entreats.

226



Act IV Scene 4

Q. Eliz. That at her hands which the kings'

King forbids.
K. Rich. Say she shall be a high and mighty

queen.
Q. Eliz. To wail the title as her mother doth.
K. Rich. Say I will love her everlastingly.
Q. Eliz. But howlong shall that title 'ever'last?
K.Rich. Sweetly in force untoher fair life'send.
Q. Eliz. But how long fairly shall her sweet

life last?
K. Rich. As long as heaven and nature

lengthens it.
Q. Eliz. As long as hell and Richard likes of it.
K. Rich. Say I, her sovereign, am her subject

low.
Q. Eliz. But she, your subject, loathes such

sovereignty.
K. Rich. Be eloquent in my behalf to her.
Q. Eliz. An honest tale speeds best being

plainly told.
K. Rich. Then plainly to her tell my loving tale.
Q. Eliz. Plain, and not honest, is too harsh

a style.
K. Rich. Your reasons are too shallow and

too quick.
Q. Eliz. O, no, my reasons are too deep and

dead, —
Too deep and dead, poor infants, in their graves.
K. Rich. Harp not on that string, madam ;

that is past.
Q. Eliz. Harp on it still shall I, till heart-
strings break.
K. Rich. Now, by my George, my garter, and

my crown, —
Q. Eliz. Profan'd, dishonour'd, and the third

usurp'd.

227



Kin«^ Kicliard III '

K. Rich. I swear —

Q. Eliz. By nothing ; for this is no oath.

Thy George, profand, hath lost his lordly honour;
Thygarter,blemish'd,pawn'dhisknightly virtue;
Thy crown, usurp'd, disgrac'd his kingly glory.
If something thou wouldst swear to be believ'd,
Swear then by something that thou hast not
wrong'd.

K. Rich. Then by myself, —

Q. Eliz. Thyself is self-niisus'd.

K. Rich. Now by the world, —

Q. Eliz. 'Tis full of thy fotil wrongs.

K. Rich. My father's death, —

Q. Eliz. Thy life hath it dishonour'd.

K. Rich. Why, then, by God,—

Q. Eliz: God's wrong is most of all.

If thou hadst fear'd to break an oath by Him,
Tlie unity the king my hxisband made
Thou hadst not broken, nor my brother slain.
If thou hadst fear'd to break an oath by Him,
The imperial metal, circling now thy head.
Had grac'd the tender temples of my child ;
And both the princes had been Vjreathing here,
Which now, two tender bedfellows for dust,
Thy broken faith hath made the prey for worms.