CHRIS. At Pembroke, or at Ha'rford-west, in Wales.
STAN, What men of name resort to him?
CHRIS. Sir Walter Herbert, a renowned soldier;
Sir Gilbert Talbot, sir William Stanley;
Oxford, redoubted Pembroke, sir James Blunt,
And Rice ap Thomas, with a valiant crew;
And many other of great fame and worth:
And towards London do they bend their power,
If by the way they be not fought withal.

STAN. Well, hie thee to thy lord; I kiss his hand.
My letter will resolve him of my mind.
Farewell.

[Exeunt.

ACT V.

SCENE I.-Salisbury. An open Place.

Enter the Sheriff and Guard, with BUCKINGHAM, led to
execution.

BUCK. Will not king Richard let me speak with him?
SHER. No, my good lord: therefore be patient.

BUCK. Hastings, and Edward's children, Grey, and Rivers, Holy king Henry, and thy fair son Edward,

Vaughan, and all that have miscarried

By underhand corrupted foul injustice!

If that your moody discontented souls

Do through the clouds behold this present hour,

Even for revenge

mock my destruction!

This is All-Souls' day, fellow, is it not?

SHER. It is, my lord.

BUCK. Why, then All-Souls' day is my body's doomsday.

This is the day which, in King Edward's time,

I wish'd might fall on me, when I was found
False to his children, and his wife's allies:
This is the day wherein I wish'd to fall

By the false faith of him whom I most trusted:

This, this All-Souls' day to my fearful soul,
Is the determin'd respite of my wrongs.
That high All-seer which I dallied with
Hath turn'd my feigned prayer on my head,
And given in earnest what I begg'd in jest.
Thus doth he force the swords of wicked men

To turn their own points on their masters' bosoms:
Thus Margaret's curse falls heavy on my neck,—
"When he," quoth she, "shall split thy heart with sorrow,
Remember Margaret was a prophetess."

Come, lead me, officers, to the block of shame;
Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of blame.

[Exeunt BUCKINGHAM, &c.

SCENE II-Plain near Tamworth.

Enter with drum and colours, RICHMOND, OXFORD, SIR JAMES BLUNT, SIR WALTER HERBERT, and others, with Forces, marching.

RICHM. Fellows in arms, and my most loving friends, Bruis'd underneath the yoke of tyranny,

Thus far into the bowels of the land

Have we march'd on without impediment;

And here receive we from our father Stanley

Lines of fair comfort and encouragement.

The wretched, bloody, and usurping boar,

That spoil'd your summer fields and fruitful vines,
Swills your warm blood like wash, and makes his trough
In your embowell'd bosoms,-this foul swine

Lies now even in the centre of this isle,
Near to the town of Leicester, as we learn:
From Tamworth thither is but one day's march.
In God's name, cheerly on, courageous friends,
To reap the harvest of perpetual peace

By this one bloody trial of sharp war.

OXF. Every man's conscience is a thousand men,

To fight against this bloody homicide.

HERB. I doubt not but his friends will turn to us.

BLUNT. He hath no friends but what are friends for fear;

Which, in his dearest need, will fly from him.

RICHм. All for our vantage. Then, in God's name, march: True hope is swift, and flies with swallow's wings, Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.-Bosworth Field.

Enter KING RICHARD and Forces; the DUKE OF NORFOLK, EARL OF SURREY, and others.

K. RICH. Here pitch our tent, even here in Bosworth field. My lord of Surrey, why look you so sad?

SUR. My heart is ten times lighter than my looks.

K. RICH. My lord of Norfolk!

NOR.

Here, most gracious liege.

K. RICH. Norfolk, we must have knocks: Ha! must we

not?

NOR. We must both give and take, my loving lord.
K. RICH. Up with my tent: Here will I lie to-night;
[Soldiers begin to set up the King's tent.
But where to-morrow?—Well, all 's one for that.—
Who hath descried the number of the traitors?

NOR. Six or seven thousand is their utmost power.
K. RICH. Why, our battalia trebles that account:
Besides, the king's name is a tower of strength,
Which they upon the adverse faction want.
Up with the tent.-Come, noble gentlemen,
Let us survey the vantage of the ground;-
Call for some men of sound direction:
Let's lack no discipline, make no delay;
For, lords, to-morrow is a busy day.

[Exeunt.

Enter, on the other side of the field, RICHMOND, SIR WILLIAM BRANDON, OXFORD, and other Lords. Some of the Soldiers pitch Richmond's tent.

RICHM. The weary sun hath made a golden set,

And, by the bright track of his fiery car,
Gives token of a goodly day to-morrow.
Sir William Brandon, you shall bear my standard.
Give me some ink and paper in my tent;-
I'll draw the form and model of our battle,
Limit each leader to his several charge,

And part in just proportion our small power.
My lord of Oxford, you, sir William Brandon,
And you, sir Walter Herbert, stay with me:
The earl of Pembroke keeps his regiment:
Good captain Blunt, bear my good night to him,
And by the second hour in the morning
Desire the earl to see me in my tent:

Yet one thing more, good captain, do for me;
Where is lord Stanley quarter'd, do you know?
BLUNT. Unless I have mista'en his colours much,
(Which well I am assur'd I have not done,)

His regiment lies half a mile at least

South from the mighty power of the king.
RICHM. If without peril it be possible,

Sweet Blunt, make some good means to speak with him, And give him from me this most needful note.

BLUNT. Upon my life, my lord, I'll undertake it;

And so, God give you quiet rest to-night!

RICHM. Good night, good captain Blunt. Come, gentlemen. Let us consult upon to-morrow's business;

In to my tent, the dew is raw and cold.

[They withdraw into the tem.

Enter, to his tent, KING RICHARD, NORFOLK, RATCLIFF,
and CATESBY.

K. RICH. What is 't o'clock?

САТЕ.

It's nine o'clock.

K. RICH.

It's supper-time, my lord;

I will not sup to-night.

Give me some ink and paper.

What, is my beaver easier than it was?

And all my armour laid into my tent?

CATE. It is, my liege; and all things are in readiness.
K. RICH. Good Norfolk, hie thee to thy charge;

Use careful watch, choose trusty sentinels.

NOR. I go, my lord.

K. RICH. Stir with the lark to-morrow, gentle Norfolk. NOR. I warrant you, my lord.

K. RICH. Ratcliff!

RAT. My lord?

[Exit.

K. RICH.

Send out a pursuivant at arms

To Stanley's regiment: bid him bring his power
Before sunrising, lest his son George fall
Into the blind cave of eternal night.

[To CATESBY.

Fill me a bowl of wine.-Give me a watch!
Saddle white Surrey for the field to-morrow.-
Look that my staves be sound, and not too heavy.
Ratcliff!

RAT. My lord?

K. RICH. Saw'st thou the melancholy lord Northumberland?

RAT. Thomas the earl of Surrey, and himself,

Much about cock-shut time, from troop to troop,
Went through the army cheering up the soldiers.

K. RICH. So, I am satisfied. Give me a bowl of wine: I have not that alacrity of spirit,

Nor cheer of mind, that I was wont to have.

Set it down.-Is ink and paper ready?

RAT. It is, my lord.

K. RICH.

Bid my guard watch; leave me. Ratcliff, about the mid of night come to my tent, And help to arm me.-Leave me, I say.

[K. RICHARD retires into his tent. Exeunt RATCLIFF and CATESBY.

RICHMOND's tent opens, and discovers him and his Officers, &c. Enter STANLEY.

STAN. Fortune and victory sit on thy helm!
RICHM. All comfort that the dark night can afford

Be to thy person, noble father-in-law!

Tell me how fares our noble mother?

STAN. I, by attorney, bless thee from thy mother,
Who prays continually for Richmond's good:
So much for that. The silent hours steal on,
And flaky darkness breaks within the east.
In brief, for so the season bids us be,
Prepare thy battle early in the morning;
And put thy fortune to the arbitrement
Of bloody strokes, and mortal-staring war.
I, as I may, (that which I would I cannot,)
With best advantage will deceive the time,