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Armed in proof, and led by fhallow 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 fhrink from me.

[Exeunt K. Richard and Ratcliff.

SCENE VI.

Enter the Lords to Richmond, fitting in his Tent.

Lords. Good morrow, Richmond.

Richm. 'Cry mercy, Lords and watchful gentlemen, That you have ta'en a tardy fluggard here.

Lords. How have you flept, my Lord?

Richm. The fweetest fleep and fairest-boding dreams, That ever enter'd in a drowfy head,

Have I fince your departure had, my Lords.
Methought, their fouls, whofe bodies Richard murder'd,
Came to my tent, and cry'd-On! Victory!

I promise you, my heart is very jocund,
In the remembrance of fo fair a dream.
How far into the morning is it, Lords?
Lords. Upon the ftroke of four.

Richm. Why, then 'tis time to arm and give direction.

More than I have faid, loving Countrymen,
The leifure and enforcement of the time
Forbids to dwell on; yet remember this,
God and our good Caufe fight upon our fide,
The Pray'rs of holy Saints and wronged fouls,
Like high rear'd bulwarks, ftand before our faces.
Richard except, thofe, whom we fight againft,
Had rather have us win, than him they follow.
For what is he, they follow? truly, gentlemen,
A bloody tyrant, and a homicide,

One rais'd in blood, and one in blood establish'd;
One, that made means to come by what he hath,
And flaughter'd thofe that were the means to help him,
A a 2

A

A bafe foul stone, made precious by the foil
Of England's Chair, where he is falfely fet,
One, that hath ever been God's enemy;
Then if you fight against God's enemy,
God will in juftice ward you as his foldiers.
If you do fweat to put a Tyrant down,
You fleep in peace, the tyrant being flain :
If you do fight against your Country's foes,
Your Country's Fat fhall pay your pains the Hire.
If you do fight in fafe guard of your wives,
Your wives fhall welcome home the conquerors.
If you do free your children from the fword,
Your childrens' children quit it in your age.
Then, in the name of God, and all these rights,
Advance your standards; draw your willing fwords.
For me,
the ranfom of my bold attempt
Shall be this cold corps on the earth's cold face :
But if I thrive, the gain of my attempt,
The leaft of you shall share his
fhall fhare his part thereof.
Sound, drums and trumpets, boldly, cheerfully;
God, and Saint George! Richmond, and Victory;

1

SCENE VII.

Enter King Richard, Ratcliff and Catesby.

K. Rich. What faid Northumberland, as touching Richmond?

Rat. That he was never trained up in arms.

K. Rich. He faid the truth; and what faid Surrey then?

Rat. He fmil'd and faid, the better for our purpose.

By the foil

Of England's Chair.] It is plain that foil cannot here mean that of which the obfcurity recommends the brightness of the diamond. It must mean the

leaf (feuielle) or thin plate of metal in which the ftone is fet.

The ransom of my bold attempt.] The fine paid by me in atonement for my rashness fhall be my dead corps.

K. Rich.

K. Rich. He was i'th'right, and fo, indeed, it is. -Tell the clock there-give me a Kalendar.

Who faw the Sun to-day?

Rat. Not I, my Lord.

[Clock Strikes.

K. Rich. Then he difdains to fhine; for, by the book,

He fhould have brav'd the Eaft an hour ago.
A black day it will be to fome body,
Ratcliff.

Rat. My Lord?

K. Rich. The Sun will not be feen to day;
The fky doth frown and lowre upon our army.
I would thefe dewy tears were from the ground.
-Not fhine to day? why, what is that to me
More than to Richmond? for the felf-fame heav'n
That frowns on me, looks fadly upon him.

Enter Norfolk.

Nor. Arm, arm, my Lord, the foe vaunts in the field.

K. Rich. Come buftle, buftle-caparison my horfe. -Call up Lord Stanley, bid him bring his Power; I will lead forth my foldiers to the plain, And thus my battle fhall be ordered. My Forward fhall be drawn out all in length, Confifting equally of horfe and foot; Our Archers fhall be placed in the midft; John Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Earl of Surrey, Shall have the leading of the foot and horfe. They thus directed, we ourself will follow In the main battle, which on either fide

Shall be well winged with our chiefeft horse.

2

This, and St. George to boot?-What think'st thou,

Norfolk?

2 This and St. George to boot.] That is, this is the order of our battle, which pro

mifes fuccefs, and over and above this, is the protection of our patron Saint.

A a 3

Nor

Nor. A good direction, warlike Sovereign. -This paper found I on my tent this morning.

[Giving a ferowl.

Jocky of Norfolk, be not fo bold,
For Dickon thy mafter is bought and fold.

[Reads,

K. Rich. A thing devifed by the enemy. -Go, gentlemen, go, each man to his Charge. Let not our babbling dreams affright our fouls; Confcience is but a word that cowards ufe, Devis'd at firft to keep the strong in awe : Our strong arms be our confcience, fwords our law. March on, join bravely, let us to't pell-mell, If not to heav'n, then hand in hand to hell, What fhall I fay more than I have inferr'd? Remember, whom you are to cope withal; *A fort of vagabonds, of rafcals, runaways, A fcum of Britons, and bafe lackey-peasants, Whom their o'er-cloyed Country vomits forth To defperate adventures and deftruction, You fleeping fafe, they bring you to unrest: You having lands, and bleit with beauteous wives, 3 They would diftrain the one, diftain the other, And who doth lead them but a paltry fellow, Long kept in Bretagne at his mother's coft?

A fort, that is, a company, a collection.

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from having any common Mother,
but England: and the Earl of
Rubond was not fubfifted a-
broad at the Nation's publick
Charge. During the greatest part
of his Refidence abroad, he was
watch'd and refrain'd almost like
a Captive; and fubfifted by Sup-
plies convey'd from the Coun-
tefs of Richmond, his Mother.
It seems probable therefore, that
we must read;

Long kept in Bretagne as his
Mother's Caft.

THEOBALD.

A

A milk-fop, one that never in his life
Felt fo much cold, as over fhoes in fnow.
Let's whip these ftragglers o'er the feas again,
Lafh hence thefe over-weening rags of France,
Thefe famifh'd beggars, weary of their lives;
Who, but for dreaming on this fond exploit,
For want of means, poor rats, had hang'd themselves.
If we be conquer'd, let men conquer us,

And not these bastard Britons, whom our fathers
Have in their own Land beaten, bobb'd, and thump'd;
And on record left them the heirs of fhame.
Shall these enjoy our Lands? lie with our wives?
Ravish our daughters?hark, I hear their drum.
[Drum afar off.
Fight, gentlemen of England, fight, bold yeomen!
Draw, archers, draw your arrows to the head;
Spur your proud horfes hard, and ride in blood,
'Amaze the welkin with your broken staves!

Enter Messenger.

What fays Lord Stanley, will he bring his Power?
Mef. My Lord, he doth deny to come.
K. Rich, Off with his fon George's head.

Nor. My Lord, the enemy hath past the marsh; After the battle let George Stanley die.

K. Rich. A thousand hearts are great within my bofom.

Advance our standards, fet upon our foes;

Our ancient word of courage, fair St. George,
Inspire us with the fpleen of fiery dragons.
Upon them! Victory fits on our helms.

[Exeunt.

That is, fright the skies with the shivers of your Lances.

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