I will lead forth my Soldiers to the Plain,
And thus my Battel fhall be ordered.
My Foreward fhall be drawn in length,
Confifting equally of Horfe and Foot:
Our Archers shall be placed in the midft;
John Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Earl of Surrey,
Shall have the leading of the Foot and Horse.
They thus directed, we will follow
In the main Battel, whofe puiffance on either fide
Shall be well winged with our chiefeft Horse:
This, and St. George to boot.
What think'ft thou, Norfolk?
Nor. A good Direction, warlike Sovereign. This found I on my Tent this Morning.
Jocky of Norfolk, be not fo bold.
For Dickon thy Master is bought and sold.
K. Rich. A thing devised by the Enemy.
Go Gentlemen, every Man to his Charge,
Let not our babling Dreams affright our Souls,
For Confcience is a Word that Cowards use,
Devis'd at firft to keep the strong in awe,
Our strong Arms be our Confcience, Swords our Law.
March on, join bravely, let us to't pell mell,
If not to Heav'n, then hand in hand to Hell.
What shall I fay more than I have inferr'd?
Remember whom you are to cope withal,
A fort of Vagabonds, Rafcals, Run-aways,
A fcum of Britains, and bafe Lackey-Peasants,
Whom their o'er-cloyed Country vomits forth
To defperate Adventures, and affur'd Destruction.
You fleeping fafe, they bring you to unreft:
You having Lands, and bleft with beauteous Wives,
They would reftrain the one, diftain the other.
Ard who doth lead them, but a paltry Fellow?
Long kept in Britain at our Mother's Coft,
A milk-fop, one that never in his Life
Felt fo much Co'd, as over Shooes in Snow:
Let's whip thefe Stragglers o'er the Seas again,
Lash hence these over-weening Rags of France,
VOL. IV.
Thefe famish'd Beggars, weary of their Lives,
Who, but for dreaming on this fond Exploit,
For want of means, poor Rats, had hang'd themfelves.
If we be conquer'd, let Men conquer us,
And not thofe Baftard-Britains, whom our Fathers
Have in their own Land beaten, bobb'd and thump'd,
And on Record, left them the Heirs of Shame.
Shall thefe enjoy our Lands? lye with our Wives?
Ravish our Daughters?
[Drum afar off.
Hark, I hear their Drum,
Right Gentlemen of England, fight boldly, 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 a Meffenger.
What fays Lord Stanley, will he bring his Power?
Mef. My Lord, he doth deny to come.
K. Rich. Off with his Son George's Head,
Nor. My Lord, the Enemy is past the Marsh;
After the Bartel let George Stanley dye.
K. Rich. A thousand Hearts are great within my Bofcm. Advance our Standards, fet upon our Foes,
Our ancient word of Courage, fair St. George,
Inspire us with the spleen of fiery Dragons:
Upon them, Victory fits on our Helms.
[Exeunt.
Alarum. Excurfions. Enter Catesby.
Cates. Refcue, my Lord of Norfolk
Refcue, Refcue:
The King enacts more Wonders than a Man,
Daring an oppofite to every Danger:
His Hofe is flair, and all on foot he fights.
Seeking for Richmond in the throat of Death:
Refcue, fair Lord, or else the Day is loft.
Alarums. Enter -King Richard.
K. Rich. A Horfe, a Horfe, my Kingdom for a Horfe. Catef. Withdraw, my Lord, Pil help you to a Horse. K. Rich. Slave, I have fet my Life upon a caft, And I will ftand the hazard of the Die: I think there be fix Richmonds in the Field, Five have I flain to Dav, instead of him. A Horse, a Horfe, my Kingdom for a Horse.
Alarum. Enter King Richard and Richmond, they fight, Richard is flain.
Retreat, and Flourish, Enter Richmond, Derby bearing the Crown, with divers other Lords,
Richm. God and your Arms be prais'd, Victorious Friends; The Day is ours, the bloody Dog is dead.
Derby. Couragious Richmond, well haft thou acquit thee i Lo, here thefe long ufurped Royalties,
From the dead Temples of this bloody Wretch,
Have I pluckt off, to grace thy Brows withal,
Wear it, and make use of it.
Richm. Great God of Heaven, fay Amen to all.
But tell me, is young George Stanley living?
Derby. He is, my Lord, and fafe in Leicester Town;
Whither, if you pleafe, we may withdraw us.
Richm. What Men of Note are flain on either Side?
Derby. John Duke of Norfolk, Walter Lord Ferris,
Sir Robert Brakenbury, and Sir William Brandon.
Richm. Inter their Bodies as becomes their Births,
Proclaim a Pardon to the Soldiers fled,
That in Submiffion will return to us:
And then, as we have ta'en the Sacrament,
We will unite the White Rofe, and the Red.
Smile Heav'n upon this fair Conjunction,
That long hath frown'd upon their Enmity:
What Traitor hears me, and fays not Amen?
England hath long been mad, and fear'd her felf
The Brother blindly fhed the Brother's Blood;
The Father rafhly flaughter'd his own Son;
The Sons, compell'd, been Butchers to the Sire
All this divided York and Lancaster,
Divided in their dire Divifion.
O now let Richmond and Elizabeth,
The true Succeeders of each Royal House,
By God's fair Ordinance, conjoin together:
And let their Heirs, God, if thy Will be fo,
Enrich the time to come, with imooth-fac'd Peace,
With smiling Plenty, and fair profperous Days.
Abate the edge of Traitors, Gracious Lord."
Nz
That would reduce these bloody Days again,
And make poor England weep in ftreams of Blood.
Let them not live to tafte this Land's encrease,
That would with Treafon wound this fair Land's Peace.
Now Civil Wounds are ftopp'd, Peace lives again;
That the may long live here, God fay, Amen.
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