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Think how thou stabb'dft me in the prime of Youth

At Tewksbury; defpair therefore, and die.
Be cheerful, Richmond,

For the wronged Souls

Of butcher'd Princes fight in thy behalf:

King Henry's iffe, Richmond, comforts thee.
Enter the Ghost of Henry the Sixth.

[To Richm

Ghost. When I was mortal, my anointed Body,

To K. Rich.

[To Richm

By thee was punched full of holes;
Think on the Tower, and me: Despair and die.
Henry the Sixth bids thee defpair, and die.
Virtuous and holy, be thou Conqueror.
Harry, that prophefied thou fhuld't he King,
Doth comfort thee i fleep; e, and A urish.
Enter the Ghost of Clarence.
Gheft. Let me fit heavy on thy Soul to morrow;
[To K. Rich.

I that was wash'd to death in Fulf m Wine,
Poor Clarence, by thy guile betray'd to death:
To morrow in the Battel think on me,

And fall thy edglefs Sword, difpur and die.

Thou Off-ipong of the Houfe of Lancaster, [To Richm.
The wronged Heirs of York do pray for thee,
Good Angels guard thy Battel, live and Al urish.

Enter the Ghosts of Rivers, Gray, and Vaughan.
Riv. Let me fit heavy on thy Soul to morrow,

Rivers, that dy'd at Pomfret: Despair, and die.

[To K. Rich.

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Gray. Think upon Gray, and let thy Soul despair.

[To K. Rich.

Vaugh. Think upon Vaughan, and with guilty fear

[To K. Rich,

Let fall thy Launce, despair and die.
All. Awake,

[To Richm.

And think our wrongs in Richard's Bofom
Will conquer. Awake, and win the Day.
Enter the Ghost of Lord Haftings.
Ghost. Bloody and guilty; guilty awake,
And in a bloody Bartel end thy Days,
Think on Lord Haftings; defpair and die.

[To K. Rich.

Quiet untroubled Soul,

[To Richm.

Awake, awake:

Arm, fight, and conquer, for fair Englad's fake.

Enter the Ghofts of the two young Princes. Ghofts. Dream on thy Coufins

Smother'd in the Tower:

Let us be laid within thy Bofom, Richard,

[To K. Rich.

And weigh thee down to ruin, fhame, and death.
Thy Nephews Souls bid thee despair and die.
Sleep Richmond,

Seep in Peace, and wake in Joy,

Good Angels guard thee from the Bear's annoy,
Live, and beget a happy race of Kings.

Edward's unhappy Sons do bid thee flourish.
Enter the Ghost of Anne his Wife.

Ghoft. Richard, thy Wife,

That wretched Anne, thy Wife,

That never flept a quiet Hour with thee,
Now fills thy fleep with perturbations,
To morrow in the Battel think on me,

And fall thy edglefs Sword, defpair and die."
Thou quiet Soul,

[To Richm.

[To K. Rich.

[To Richm.

Sleep thou a quiet Sleep:

Dream of Succefs, and happy Victory,

Thy Adverfaries Wife doth pray for thee.
Enter the Ghost of Buckingham.

Ghoft: The first was I,

[To K. Rich.

That help'd thee to the Crown:

The laft was I, that felt thy Tyranny.
O, in the Battel think on Buckingham,

And die in terror of thy guiltinefs,

Dream on, dream on, of bloody Deeds and Death,
Fainting defpair; defpairing yield thy breath.

I dy'd for hope,

E'er I could lend thee aid;

[To Richm.

But cheer thy Heart, and be thou not difmay'd:

God, and good Angels fight on Richmond's fide,

And Richard falls in height of all his Pride. [The Ghofts vanish.

[K. Richard starts out of his Dream.

K. Rich. Give me another Horfe, bind up my Wounds: Have mercy, Jefus — -Soft, I did but dream.

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O coward Confcience! how doft-thou affli& me?
The Lights burn blue It is not dead Mid-night-
Cold fearful Drops ftand on my trembling Flesh:
What? do I fear my felf? There's none else by,
Richard loves Richard, that is, I am I.

Is there a Murtherer here? No; Yes, I am:
Then fly what from my felf? Great reafon; why?
Left I revenge. What? my felf upon my felf?
Alack, I love my felf. Wherefore? For any good
That I my felf have done upon my felf?
O no. Álas, I rather hate my felf,
For hateful Deeds committed by felf.
I am a Villain; yet I lie, I am not.

Fool, of thy felf fpeak well Fool, do not flatter.
My Confcience hath a thousand feveral Tongues,
And every Tongue brings in a feveral Tale,
And every Tale condemns me for a Villain;
Perjury, in the high'ft degree,

Murther, ftern Murther, in the dir❜ft degree,
All feveral Sins, all us'd in each degree,

Throng all to th' Bar, crying a 1, Guilty, guilty.
I fhall defpair, there is no Creature loves me;
And if I die, no Soul fhall pity_me.

Nay, wherefore fhould they? fince that I my felf
Find in my felf no pity to my felf.

Methought, the Souls of all that I had murther'd
Came to my Tent, and every one did threat
To morrows Vengeance on the head of Richard.
Enter Ratcliff.

Rat. My Lord.

K. Rich. Who's there?

Rat. Ratcliff, my Lord, 'tis I; the early Village Cock Hath twice done Salutation to the Morn;

Your Friends are up, and buckle on their Armour.
K. Rich. O Ratcliff, I fear, I fear

Rat. Nay, good my Lord, be not afraid of fhadows. K. Rich. By the Apostle Paul fhadows to night Have ftruck more terrour to the Soul of Richard, Than can the fubftance of ten thousand Soldiers Armed in proof, and led by fhallow Richmond.

'Tis not yet near Day. Come, go with me, Under our Tents; I'll play the Eaves-dropper, To hear if any Man fhrink from me.

[Exeunt K. Richard and Ratcliff.

Enter the Lords to Richmond fitting in his Tent.

Lords. Good morrow, Richmond.

Richm. Cry you mercy, Lords, and watchful Gentlemen,

That you have ta'en a tardy Sluggard here.
Lords. How have you flept, my Lord?
Richm. The fweetest Sleep,

And faireft boading Dreams,

That ever entred in a drowfie Head.
Have I fince your departure had, my Lords.
Methought their Souls, whole Bodies Richard murther'd,
Came to my Tent, and cried 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 ftroak 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 upon; yet remember this,
God, and our good Caufe, fight upon our fide,
The Prayers of holy Saints, and wronged Souls,
Like high rear'd Bulwarks, ftand before our Faces.
Richard except, thofe whom we fight against,
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 base foul Stone, made precious by the foil
Of England's Chair, where he is falsely set.
One that hath ever been God's Enemy;
Then if you fight against God's Enemy,
God will in juftice ward you as his Soldiers.

If

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If you do fwear to put a Tyrant down,
You fleep in Peace, the Tyrant being flain:
If you do fight against your Countries Foes,
Your Countries Fat fhall pay your pains the hire.
If you do fight in fafeguard of your Wives,
Your Wives fhall welcome home the Conquerors.
If you do free
do free your Children from the Sword,
Your Childrens Children quits it in your Age.
Then in the Name of God and all these rights,
Advance your Standards, draw your willing Swords.
For me, the ransom of bold attempt,
my

Shall be this cold Corps on the Earth's cold face.
But if I thrive, the gain of my attempt,
The leaft of you fhall fhare his part thereof.
Sound Drums and Trumpets boldly, and chearfully,
God, and Saint George, Richmond, and Victory.

Enter King Richard, Ratcliff, and Catesby.
K. Rich. What faid Northumberland, as touching Rich.
mond?

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.
K. Rich. He was in the right, and fo indeed it is.
Tell the Clock there.

[Clock Strikes.
Give me a Kalender who faw the Sun to day?
Rat. Not I, my Lord.

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

He should 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 Sky doth frown and lowre upon our Army

I would thefe dewy Tears were from the Ground-
Not shine 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.

Norf. Arm, arm, my Lord, the Foes vaunt in the Field.
K. Rich. Come, buftle, buftle-Caparison my Horse.

Call up Lord Stanley, bid him bring his Power,

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