Reading The Tragedy of Richard the Third — William Shakespeare

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Mar.

Beare with me: I am hungry for reuenge,

And now I cloy me with beholding it.

Thy Edward he is dead, that kill'd my Edward,

The other Edward dead, to quit my Edward:

Yong Yorke, he is but boote, because both they

Matcht not the high perfection of my losse.

Thy Clarence he is dead, that stab'd my Edward,

And the beholders of this franticke play,

Ih'adulterate Hastings, Riuers, Vaughan, Gray,

Vntimely smother'd in their dusky Graues.

Richard yet liues, Hels blacke Intelligencer,

Onely reseru'd their Factor, to buy soules,

And send them thither: But at hand, at hand

Insues his pittious and vnpittied end.

Earth gapes, Hell burnes, Fiends roare, Saints pray,

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