Classic Poem

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 Forest, whom I did suborn
To do this piece of ruthless butchery,
Albeit they were flesh'd villains, bloody dogs,
Melting 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
Within their alabaster innocent arms:
Their lips were four red roses on a stalk,
Which, in their summer beauty, kiss'd each other.
A book of prayers on their pillow lay;
Which once , quoth Forrest, almost changed my mind :
But, O, the devil — there the villain stopp'd;
When Dighton thus told on, — we smothered
The most replenished sweet work of nature.
That, from the prime creation e'er she framed. —
Hence both are gone with conscience and remorse,
They could not speak; and so I left them both,
To bear this tidings to the bloody king:
And here he comes.

All health, my sovereign lord!
K. RICH : Kind Tyrrel! am I happy in thy news?