Begone!

(Sonnet)

With prayer book in hand and pious pose,
Richard the Third dislike of kingship feigned,
But holiness is fake that would itself disclose
And, underneath, a villain he remained.
Complacently, compliant officials cheered,
False shadows for true substances mistook,
As Custom crowned the crook. Yet Richmond, reared
For future glory, to his heels took.
And sure enough, the slaughter he foresaw,
Even infanticide, swept England's land,
'Till, back at Bosworth Field glutted in gore,
He sent his foe to Hell by divine hand.
Now, seeing this second-coming tyranny,
Dear Reader, you must set your sails and flee!

June 2005