Richm. All for our vantage-then, in God's name, march..

True hope is fwift, and flies with Swallow's wings,
Kings it makes Gods, and meaner creatures Kings.

[Exeunt.

Enter King Richard in arms, with Norfolk, Surrey, Ratcliff, Catesby, and others.

K. Rich. T

H

ERE pitch our Tents, even here in
Bofworth field.

My Lord of Surrey, why look you so sad ?

Surr. My heart is ten times lighter than my looks. K. Rich. My Lord of Norfolk

Nor. Here, moft gracious Liege.

K. Rich. Norfolk, we must have knocks: ha, must we not?

Nor. We must both give and take, my gracious Lord.

K. Rich. Up with my tent, here will I lie to night; But where to morrow?well, all's one for that. Who hath defcry'd the number of the traitors?

Nor. Sir, or fev'n thousand is their utmoft Power. I K. Rich. Why, our Battalion trebles that account; Befides, 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 furvey the vantage of the ground. Call for fome men of 7 found direction; Let's want no difcipline, make no delay, For, Lords, to morrow is a bufy day.

[Exeunt.

Sound direction.] True judgment; tried military skill.

SCENE

SCENE changes to another Part of Bofworth field.

Enter Richmond, Sir William Brandon, Oxford, and Dorfet.

THE

Richm. HE weary Sun hath made a golden Set, And, by the bright tract of his fiery car,

Gives fignal of a goodly day to-morrow.

-Sir William Brandon, you fhall bear my ftandard;
The Earl of Pembroke keep his regiment;

-Good Captain Blunt, bear my good night to him;
And by the fecond hour in the morning
Defire the Earl to fee me in my tent.

-Yet one thing more, good Blunt, before thou goeft;
Where is Lord Stanley quarter'd, doft thou know?
Blunt. Unless I have mifta'en his quarters much,
Which well I am affur'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 poffible,

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.
Richm. Give me fome 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 juft proportion our fmall ftrength.
Let us confult upon to-morrow's business.
-Into our tent, the air is raw and cold.

* Give me fome ink and paper ;] I have placed these lines here as they ftand in the first editions: the reft place them three fpeeches before, after the words Sir William Brandon, you shall bear my fandard; interrupting what

[They withdraw into the tent.

there follows; The Earl of Pem, broke, &c. I think them more naturally introduced here, when he is retiring to his tent; and confidering what he has to do that night.

POPE.

SCENE

SCENE changes back to King Richard's Tent.

Enter King Richard, Ratcliff, Norfolk, and Catesby.

K. Rich.

HAT is't o'clock?

WHE

It's nine o'clock.

Catef. It's fupper time, my Lord;

K. Rich. I will not fup to night.

Give me fome Ink and Paper.

What, is my beaver eafier than it was,

And all my armour laid into my tent?

Catef. It is, my Liege, and all things are in readinefs.

K. Rich. Good Norfolk, hie thee to thy charge, Use careful watch, chufe trufty centinels.

Nor. I go, my Lord.

K. Rich. Stir with the lark to-morrow, gentle Norfolk.

Nor. I warrant you, my Lord.

K. Rich. Catefby

Cates. My Lord.

K. Rich. Send out a pursuivant at arms

To Stanley's regiment; bid him bring his Power
Before Sun-rifing, left his fon George fall

Into the blind Cave of eternal Night.

9

Fill me a bowl of wine give me a watch

[Exit.

[To Ratcliff. Saddle white Surrey for the field to-morrow. b

9 Give me a watch.] A watch has many fignifications, but I fhould believe that it means in this place not a fentinel, which would be regularly placed at the King's tent; nor an inftrument to measure time, which was not used in that age; but a watch

light, a candle to burn by him; the light that afterwards burnt blue; yet, a few lines after, he fays,

Bid my guard watch. which leaves it doubtful whether watch is not here a fentinel.

Look,

'Look, that my ftaves be found, and not too heavy. Ratcliff

Rat. My Lörd?

K. Rich. Saw'st thou the melancholy Lord Northumberland?~'

Rat. Thomas the Earl of Surrey, and himself, Much about cock-fhut time, from troop to troop, Went through the army, cheering up the foldiers.

K. Rich. I am fatisfy'd give me a bowl of wine. I have not that alacrity of spirit,

Nor cheer of mind, that I was wont to have.
-There, fet it down.-Is ink and paper ready?
Rat. It is, my Lord.

K. Rich. Bid my Guard watch, and leave me.
About the mid of night come to my tent,
And help to arm me.-Leave me now, I fay.
[Exit Ratcliff.

Stanl.

Enter Stanley to Richmond, Lords, &c.

Ortune and Victory fit on thy helm!
Richm. All comfort, that the dark night
can afford,

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

Tell me, how fares our loving mother?

Stanl. I, by attorney, bless thee from thy mother; Who prays continually for Richmond's good: So much for that-The filent hours fteal on, And flaky darkness breaks within the East. In brief, for fo the feafon bids us be,

Prepare thy battle early in the morning;
And put thy fortune to th' Arbitrement
Of bloody ftrokes, and mortal ftaring war.
'I, as I may, that which I would, I cannot,
With beft advantage will deceive the time,
And aid thee in this doubtful fhock of arms.
But on thy fide I may not be too forward,
Left, being feen. thy brother, tender George,
Be executed in his father's Sight.

Farewel. The leifure, and the fearful time
Cuts off the ceremonious vows of love,
And ample enterchange of fweet discourse,
Which fo long-fundred friends fhould dwell upon.
God give us leifure for thefe Rites of love!
Once more, adieu. Be valiant and speed well.
Richm. Good Lords, conduct him to his regiment:
I'll ftrive, with troubled thoughts, to take a nap;
Left leaden flumber poize me down to-morrow,
When I fhould mount with wings of victory.
-Once more, good night, kind Lords, and gentle-
[Exeunt. Manet Richmond.
-O Thou! whofe Captain I account myself,
Look on my forces with a gracious eye,
Put in their hands thy bruifing irons of wrath,
That they may crush down with a heavy fall
Th' ufurping helmets of our adverfaries!
Make us thy Minifters of chaftisement,
That we may praise thee in thy victory.

men.