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Front Page Titles (by Subject) Scene III.—: Pomfret. Before the Castle. - The Tragedy of King Richard the Third
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Scene III.—: Pomfret. Before the Castle. - William Shakespeare, The Tragedy of King Richard the Third [1597]Edition used:The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (The Oxford Shakespeare), ed. with a glossary by W.J. Craig M.A. (Oxford University Press, 1916).
Part of: The Complete Works of William Shakespeare (The Oxford Shakespeare)About Liberty Fund:Liberty Fund, Inc. is a private, educational foundation established to encourage the study of the ideal of a society of free and responsible individuals. Copyright information:The text is in the public domain. Fair use statement:This material is put online to further the educational goals of Liberty Fund, Inc. Unless otherwise stated in the Copyright Information section above, this material may be used freely for educational and academic purposes. It may not be used in any way for profit.
Scene III.—Pomfret. Before the Castle.EnterRatcliff,with halberds, carryingRivers, Grey,andVaughanto 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 guitless 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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