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"Tis thought, that Richmond is their admiral; And there they hull, expecting but the aid Of Buckingham, to welcome them ashore.

K. Rich. Some light-foot friend post to the
Duke of Norfolk :-

Ratcliff, thyself,- -or Catesby; where is he?
Cate. Here, my good lord.

K. Rich. Catesby, fly to the duke.

Cate. I will, my lord, with all convenient haste.

K. Rich. Ratcliff, come hither: Post to Salisbury;

When thou com'st thither,-Dull unmindful villain, [To Catesby.

Why stay'st thou here, and go'st not to the duke? Cate. First, mighty liege, tell me your highness' pleasure,

What from your grace I shall deliver to him. K. Rich. O, true, good Catesby;-Bid him levy straight

The greatest strength and power he can make, And meet me suddenly at Salisbury.

Cate. I go.


Rat. What, may it please you, shall I do at Salisbury?

K. Rich. Why, what would'st thou do there, before I


Rat. Your highness told me, I should post before.


K. Rich. My mind is chang'd.-Stanley, what news with you?

Stan. None good, my liege, to please you with the hearing;

Nor none so bad, but well may be reported.

K. Rich. Heyday, a riddle! neither good nor bad!

What need'st thou run so many miles about, When thou may'st tell thy tale the nearest way? Once more, what news?

Stan. Richmond is on the seas.

K. Rich. There let him sink, and be the seas on him!

White-liver'd runagate, what doth he there? Stan. I know not, mighty sovereign, but by


K. Rich. Well, as you guess?

Stan. Stirr'd up by Dorset, Buckingham, and Morton,

He makes for England, here to claim the crown. K. Rich. Is the chair empty? is the sword unsway'd?

Is the king dead? the empire unpossess'd?
What heir of York is there alive, but we?
And who is England's king, but great York's

Then, tell me, what makes he upon the seas?
Stan. Unless for that, my liege, I cannot guess.
K. Rich. Unless for that he comes to be your

You cannot guess wherefore the Welshman


Thou wilt revolt, and fly to him, I fear.

Stan. No, mighty liege; therefore mistrust

me not.

K. Rich. Where is thy power then, to beat him back?

Where be thy tenants, and thy followers?
Are they not now upon the western shore,
Safe-conducting the rebels from their ships?
Stan. No, my good lord, my friends are in
the north.

K. Rich. Cold friends to me: What do they in the north,

When they should serve their sovereign in the west?

Stan. They have not been commanded, mighty king:

Pleaseth your majesty to give me leave,
I'll muster up my friends; and meet your grace,
Where, and what time, your majesty shall please.
K. Rich. Ay, ay, thou wouldst be gone to
join with Richmond:

I will not trust you, sir.

Stan. Most mighty sovereign, You have no cause to hold my friendship doubtful;

I never was, nor never will be false.

K. Rich. Well, go, muster men. But, hear you, leave behind

Your son, George Stanley; look your heart be


Or else his head's assurance is but frail. Stan. So deal with him, as I prove true to you. [Exit Stanley.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. My gracious sovereign, now in Devon


As I by friends am well advertised,
Sir Edward Courtney, and the haughty prelate,
Bishop of Exeter, his elder brother,
With many more confederates, are in arms.
Enter another Messenger.

2 Mess. In Kent, my liege, the Guildfords are in arms;

And every hour more competitors
Flock to the rebels, and their power grows strong.
Enter another Messenger.

3 Mess. My lord, the army of great Buckingham

K. Rich. Out on ye, owls! nothing but songs of death? [He strikes him. There, take thou that, till thou bring better news. 3 Mess. The news I have to tell your majesty, Is, that by sudden floods and fall of waters, Buckingham's army is dispers'd and scatter'd ; And he himself wander'd away alone, No man knows whither.

K. Rich. O, I cry you mercy There is my purse, to cure that blow of thine. Hath any well-advised friend proclaim'd Reward to him, that brings the traitor in?

3 Mess. Such proclamation hath been made, my liege.

Enter another Messenger.

4 Mess. Sir Thomas Lovel, and lord marquis Dorset,

'Tis said, my liege, in Yorkshire are in arms.
But this good comfort bring I to your highness,-
The Bretagne navy is dispers'd by tempest:
Richmond, in Dorsetshire, sent out a boat
Unto the shore, to ask those on the banks,
If they were his assistants, yea, or no;
Who answer'd him, they came from Buckingham
Upon his party: he, mistrusting them,
Hois'd sail, and made his course again for Bretagne.
K. Rich. March on, march on, since we are
up in arms;

If not to fight with foreign enemies,

Yet to beat down these rebels here at home.

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SCENE V.-A room in Lord Stanley's house. Enter STANLEY and Sir CHRISTOPHER URSWICK.

Stan. Sir Christopher, tell Richmond this from me:

That, in the sty of this most bloody boar,
My son George Stanley is frank'd up in hold;
If I revolt, off goes young George's head;
The fear of that withholds my present aid.
But, tell me, where is princely Richmend now?
Chris. At Pembroke, or at Ha'rford-west, in

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 course,
If by the way they be not fought withal.

Stan. Well, hie thee to thy lord; commend me to him;

Tell him the queen hath heartily consented
He shall espouse Elizabeth her daughter.
These letters will resolve him of my mind.
Farewell. [Gives papers to Sir Christopher.



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, Rivers, Grey,

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, fellows, 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, or his wife's allies:
This is the day, wherein I wish'd to fall
By the false faith of him whom most I trusted;

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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

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 days march.
In God's name, cheerly on, courageous friends,
To reap the harvest of perpetual peace
By this one bloody trial of sharp war.

Orf. Every man's conscience is a thousand swords,

To fight against that bloody homicide.

Herb. I doubt not but his friends will turn

to us.

Blunt. He hath no friends, but who are friends for fear;

Which, in his dearest need, will fly from him. Richm. 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 mcaner 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 tents, even here in Bosworth field.

My lord of Surrey, why look you so sad?
Sur. My heart is ten times lighter than my

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

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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

And, by the bright track of his fiery car,
Gives token of a goodly day to-morrow.—
Sir William Brandon, you shall bear my stand-

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,

Let us consult upon to-morrow's business;
In to my tent, the air is raw and cold.

[They withdraw into the tent.

Enter, to his tent, King RICHARD, NORFOLK,

K. Rich. What is't o'clock?
Cate. It's supper-time, my lord;
It's nine o'clock.

K. Rich. 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

Nor. I warrant you, my lord.
K. Rich. Ratcliff,-

Rat. My lord?


K. Rich. Send out a pursuivant at arms To Stanley's regiment; bid him bring his power Before sun-rising, lest his son George fall Into the blind cave of eternal night.—

Fill me a bowl of wine.-Give me a watch :To Catesby. 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. 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.-
So, set it down.-Is ink and paper ready?
Rat. It is, my lord.

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

[King Kichard retires into his tent. Exeunt Kalcliff and Catesby.

RICHMOND's tent opens, and discovers him and his Officers, &e.


Stan. Fortune and victory sit on thy helm !
Richm. All comfort that the dark night can

Be to thy person, noble father-in-law !
Tell me, how fares our loving 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,
And aid thee in this doubtful shock of arms:
But on thy side I may not be too forward,
Lest, being seen, thy brother, tender George,
Be executed in his father's sight.
Farewell: The leisure and the fearful time
Cuts off the ceremonious vows of love,
And ample interchange of sweet discourse,
Which so long sunder'd friends should dwell

God give us leisure for these rites of love!
Once more, adieu :-Be valiant, and speed well!
Richm. Good lords, conduct him to his regi-

I'll strive, with troubled thoughts, to take a nap;
Lest leaden slumber peise me down to-morrow,
When I should mount with wings of victory:
Once more, good night, kind lords and gentlemen.
[Exeunt Lords, &c. with Stanley.

O Thou! whose captain I account myself,
Look on my forces with a gracious eye;
Put in their hands thy bruising irons of wrath,

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The Ghost of Prince EDWARD, son to Henry the Sixth, rises between the two tents. Ghost. Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow! [To King Richard. Think, how thou stab'dst me in my prime of youth

At Tewksbury; Despair therefore, and die!

Be cheerful, Richmond; for the wronged soul Of butcher'd princes fight in thy behalf: King Henry's issue, Richmond, comforts thee. The Ghost of King HENRY the Sixth rises. Ghost. When I was mortal, my anointed body To King Richard. By thee was punched full of deadly holes : Think on the Tower, and me; Despair, and die; Harry the sixth bids thee despair and die.— Virtuous and holy, be thou conqueror !

[To Richmond. Harry, that prophecy'd thou shouldst be king, Doth comfort thee in thy sleep; Live, and flourish!


The Ghost of CLARENCE rises. Ghost. Let me sit heavy on thy soul to mor[To King Richard. I, that was wash'd to death with fulsome wine, Poor Clarence, by thy guile betray'd to death! To morrow in the battle think on me, And fall thy edgeless sword; Despair, and die !— Thou offspring of the house of Lancaster, [To Richmond. The wronged heirs of York do pray for thee; Good angels guard thy battle! Live, and flourish! The Ghosts of RIVERS, GREY, and VAUGHAN,

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Quiet untroubled soul, awake, awake!

[To Richmond. Arm, fight, and conquer, for fair England's sake! The Ghosts of the two young Princes rise. Ghosts. Dream on thy cousins, smother'd in the Tower;

Let us be lead within thy bosom, Richard,
And weigh thee down to ruin, shame, and death!
Thy nephews' souls bid thee despair, and die.
Sleep, Richmond, sleep in peace, and wake in


Good angels guard thee from the boar's annoy!
Live, and beget a happy race of kings!
Edward's unhappy sons do bid thee flourish.

The Ghost of Queen ANNE rises.

Ghost. Richard, thy wife, that wretched Anne thy wife,

That never slept a quiet hour with thee,
Now fills thy sleep with perturbations:
To-morrow in the battle think on me,
And fall thy edgeless sword; Despair, and die!
Thou, quiet soul, sleep thou a quiet sleep;
[To Richmond.
Dream of success and happy victory;
Thy adversary's wife doth pray for thee.

The Ghost of BUCKINGHAM rises.


Ghost. The first was I, that help'd thee to the [To King Richard. The last was ĺ, that felt thy tyranny: O, in the battle think on Buckingham, And die in terror of thy guiltiness! Dream on, dream on, of bloody deeds and death; Fainting, despair; despairing, yield thy breath. I died for hope, ere I could lend thee aid, [To Richmond. But cheer thy heart, and be thou not dismay'd: God, and good angels fight on Richmond's side; And Richard falls in height of all his pride.

[The Ghosts vanish. King Richard starts out of his dream.

K. Rich. Give me another horse,-bind up my wounds,

Have mercy, Jesu !-Soft; I did but dream.
O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me!
The lights burn blue. It is now dead midnight.
Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh.
What do I fear? myself? there's none else by:
Richard loves Richard; that is, I am I.

Is there a murderer here? No;-Yes; I am :
Then fly,-What, from myself? Great reason:

Lest I revenge. What? myself on myself?
I love myself. Wherefore? for any good,
That I myself have done unto myself?
O, no: alas, I rather hate myself
For hateful deeds, committed by myself.
I am a villain: Yet I lie, I am not,
Fool, of thyself speak well:-Fool, do not flatter.
My conscience hath a thousand several tongues,
And every tongue brings in a several tale,

And every tale condemns me for a villain.
Perjury, perjury, in the high'st degree,
Murder, stern murder, in the dir'st degree;
All several sins, all us'd in each degree,
Throng to the bar, crying all,-Guilty! guilty!
I shall despair.-There is no creature loves me;
And, if I die, no soul will pity me:-
Nay, wherefore should they? since that I myself
Find in myself no pity to myself.
Methought, the souls of all that I had murder'd
Came to my tent; and every one did threat
To-morrow's vengeance on the head of Richard.

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What thinkest thou? will our friends prove all true?

Rat. No doubt, my lord.

K. Rich. Ratcliff, I fear, I fear,

Rat. Nay, good my lord, be not afraid of shadows.

K. Rich. By the apostle Paul, shadows to-night Have struck more terror to the soul of Richard, Than can the substance of ten thousand soldiers, Armed in proof, and led by shallow Richmond. It is not yet near day. Come, go with me; Under our tents I'll play the eaves-dropper, To hear, if any mean to shrink from me.

[Exeunt King Richard and Ratcliff.

RICHMOND wakes. Enter OXFORD and Others. Lords. Good-morrow, Richmond.

Richm. 'Cry mercy, lords, and watchful gentlemen,

That you have ta'en a tardy sluggard here.
Lords. How have you slept, my lord?

Richm. The sweetest sleep, and fairest-boding dreams,

That ever enter'd in a drowsy head,
Have I, since your departure, had, my lords.
Methought, their souls, whose bodies Richard

Came to my tent, and cried-On! victory!
I promise you, my heart is very jocund
In the remembrance of so fair a dream.
How far into the morning is it, lords?
Lords. Upon the stroke of four.
Richm. Why, then 'tis time to arm, and give

direction. He advances to the Troops.
More than I have said, loving countrymen,
The leisure and enforcement of the time
Forbids to dwell on: Yet remember this,―
God, and our good cause, fight upon our side;
The prayers of holy saints, and wronged souls,
Like high-rear'd bulwarks, stand before our faces;
Richard except, those, whom we fight against,

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