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I will lead forth my Soldiers to the Plain,
And thus my Battel shall be ordered.
My Foreward shall be drawn in length,
Confifting equally of Horse and Foot:
Our Archers (hall be placed in the midft;
John Duke of Norfolk. Thomas Earl of Surrey,
Shall have the leading of the Foot and Horle.
They thus directed, we will follow
In the main Battel, whose puissance on either side
Shall be well winged with our chiefest Horse:
This, and St. George to boot.
What think'st thou, Norfolk?
Nor. A good Direction, warlike Sovereign.
This found I on my Tent this Morning. [Giving a Scrowl.
Jocky of Norfolk, be not so bold. i [Reads.
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 Conscience is a Word that Cowards use,
Devis’d at first to keep the strong in awe,
Our strong Arms be our Conscience, Swords our Law. min March on, join bravely, let us to't pell mell,
If nor to Heav'n, then hand in hand to Hell.
What shall I say more than I have inferr’d? cha Remember whom you are to cope withal,
A sort of Vagabonds, Rascals, Run-aways,
A scum of Britains, and base Lackey-Peasants,
Whom their o'er-cloyed Country vomits forth
To desperate Adventures, and aftur'd Deftru&ion,
You sleeping safe, they bring you to unrest:
You having Lands, and bleft with beauteous Wives,
They would restrain the one, diftain the other.
Ard' who doth lead them, but a paltry Fellow?
Long kept in Britain at our Mother's Colt,
A milk-lop, one that never in his Life
Felt so much Co'd, as over Shopes in Snow:
for Let's whip these Stragglers o'er the Seas again,
Lash hence these over-Weening Rags of France,
Thele familh'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 those Bastard-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 these enjoy our Lands? Iye 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 Horses hard, and ride in Blood,
Amaze the Welkin with your broken Staves.
Enter a Messenger.
What says Lord Stanley, will he bring his Power
Mef. My Lord, he doth deny to come.
K. Riche Off with his Son George's Head,
Nor. My Lord, the Eremy is past the Marsh;
After the Bartel let George Stanley dye.
K. Rich. A thousand Hearts are great within my Bosom.
Advance our Standards, set upon our Foes,
Our ancient word of Courage, fair St. George,
Inspire us with the spleen of fiery Dragons:
Upon them, Vi&ory fits on our Helms. [Excunt.
Alarum. Excursions. Enter Catesby.
Catef. Rescue, my Lord of Norfolk,
The King enads more Wonders than y Man,
Daring an opposite to every Danger :
His Hoife is fair, and all on foot he fights.
Seeking for Richmond in the throat of Death:
Rescue, fair Lord, or else the Day is loft.
Alarums. Enter -King Richard.
K. Rich. A Horse, a Horse, my Kingdom for a Horse.
Catel. Withdraw, my Lord, Pll help you to a Horse.
K. Rich. Slave, I have set my Life 'upon a caft,
And I will stand the hazard of the Die :
I think there be fix Richmonds in the Field,
Five have I fain to Day, instead of him.
A Horse, a Horse, my Kingdom for a Horse.
Alarumi Enter King Richard and Richmond, they fight;
Richard is slain.
Retreat, and Flourish, Enter Richmond, Derby bearing
the Crown, with divers other Lords.
Richm. God and your Arms be prais'd, Victorious Friends i
The Day is ours, the bloody Dog is dead.
Derby. Couragious Richmond, well halt thou acquit chee
Lo, here these long usurped 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 lafé in Leicester Town;
Whither, if you please, we may withdraw us.
Richm. What Men of Nore are flain on either Side
Derby. John Duke of Norfolk, Walter Lord Ferris,
Sir Robert Brakenbury, and Sir William Brandon.
Richmo. Inter their Bodies as becomes their Births,
Proclaim a Pardon to the Soldiers fled,
That in Submission will return to us :
And then, as we have ta'en the Sacrament,
We will unite the White Rose, ard the Red.
Smile Heav'n upon this fair Conjun&ion,
That long hath frown'd upon their Enmiry:
What Traitor hears me, and fiyś not Amen?
England hath long been mad, and scar'd her felf:
The Brother blindly shed the Brother's Blood;
The Father rashly flaughter'd his own Son;'
The Sons, compellid, been Butchers to the Sire :
All this divided Tork and Lancaster,
Divided in their dire Division.
O now let Richmond and Elizabeth;
The true Succeeders of each Royal House,
By God's fair Ordinance, cor join together :
And let their Heirs, God, if thy Will be so,
Enrich the time to come, with imooth-fac'd Peace,
With smiling Plenty, and fair
Abate the edge of Traitors, Gracious Lord,
That would reduce these bloody Days again,
And make poor England weep in streams of Blood.
Let them not live to taste this Land's encrease,
That would with Treason wound this fair Land's Peace.
Now Civil Wounds are stopp’d, Peace lives again;
That she may long live here, God say, Amen. [Excunt.