Come, bring forth the prisoners.

Sir Richard Ratcliffe, let me tell thee this:

3.3.419361752To day shalt thou behold a subject die

3.3.519371753For truth, for duty, and for loyalty.

God keep the Prince from all the pack of you:

3.3.719391755A knot you are of damnèd bloodsuckers.

O Pomfret, Pomfret, O thou bloody prison,

3.3.919441757Fatal and ominous to noble peers.

3.3.1019451758Within the guilty closure of thy walls

3.3.1119461759Richard the Second here was hacked to death,

3.3.1219471760And for more slander to thy dismal soul

3.3.1319481761We give thee up our guiltless bloods to drink.

Now Margaret's curse is fallen upon our heads

3.3.1519511763For standing by when Richard stabbed her son.

Then cursed she Hastings, 1953then cursed she Buckingham:

3.3.1719541765Then cursed she Richard. O remember, God,

3.3.1819551766To hear her prayers for them as now for us,

3.3.1919561767And for my sister and her princely son:

3.3.2019571768Be satisfied, dear God, with our true bloods,

3.3.2119581769Which as thou knowest unjustly must be spilled.

Come, come, dispatch, the limit of your lives is out.

Come Grey, come Vaughan, let us all embrace

19611772And take our leave until we meet in heaven.