But if I thriue, the gaine of my attempt, The least of you shall share his part thereof.
Sound Drummes and Trumpets boldly, and cheerefully, G.o.d, and Saint George, Richmond, and Victory.
Enter King Richard, Ratcliffe, and Catesby.
K. What said Northumberland as touching Richmond?
Rat. That he was neuer trained vp in Armes
King. He said the truth: and what said Surrey then?
Rat. He smil"d and said, the better for our purpose
King. He was in the right, and so indeed it is.
Tell the clocke there.
Clocke strikes.
Giue me a Kalender: Who saw the Sunne to day?
Rat. Not I my Lord
King. Then he disdaines to shine: for by the Booke He should haue brau"d the East an houre ago, A blacke day will it be to somebody. Ratcliffe
Rat. My Lord
King. The Sun will not be seene to day, The sky doth frowne, and lowre vpon our Army.
I would these dewy teares were from the ground.
Not shine to day? Why, what is that to me More then to Richmond? For the selfe-same Heauen That frownes on me, lookes sadly vpon him.
Enter Norfolke.
Nor. Arme, arme, my Lord: the foe vaunts in the field
King. Come, bustle, bustle. Caparison my horse.
Call vp Lord Stanley, bid him bring his power, I will leade forth my Soldiers to the plaine, And thus my Battell shal be ordred.
My Foreward shall be drawne in length, Consisting equally of Horse and Foot: Our Archers shall be placed in the mid"st; Iohn Duke of Norfolke, Thomas Earle of Surrey, Shall haue the leading of the Foot and Horse.
They thus directed, we will follow In the maine Battell, whose puissance on either side Shall be well-winged with our cheefest Horse: This, and Saint George to boote.
What think"st thou Norfolke
Nor. A good direction warlike Soueraigne, This found I on my Tent this Morning.
Iockey of Norfolke, be not so bold, For d.i.c.kon thy maister is bought and sold
King. A thing deuised by the Enemy.
Go Gentlemen, euery man to his Charge, Let not our babling Dreames affright our soules: For Conscience is a word that Cowards vse, Deuis"d at first to keepe the strong in awe, Our strong armes be our Conscience, Swords our Law.
March on, ioyne brauely, let vs too"t pell mell, If not to heauen, then hand in hand to h.e.l.l.
What shall I say more then I haue inferr"d?
Remember whom you are to cope withall, A sort of Vagabonds, Rascals, and Run-awayes, A sc.u.m of Brittaines, and base Lackey Pezants, Whom their o"re-cloyed Country vomits forth To desperate Aduentures, and a.s.sur"d Destruction.
You sleeping safe, they bring you to vnrest: You hauing Lands, and blest with beauteous wiues, They would restraine the one, distaine the other, And who doth leade them, but a paltry Fellow?
Long kept in Britaine at our Mothers cost, A Milke-sop, one that neuer in his life Felt so much cold, as ouer shooes in Snow: Let"s whip these straglers o"re the Seas againe, Lash hence these ouer-weening Ragges of France, These famish"d Beggers, weary of their liues, Who (but for dreaming on this fond exploit) For want of meanes (poore Rats) had hang"d themselues.
If we be conquered, let men conquer vs, And not these b.a.s.t.a.r.d Britaines, whom our Fathers Haue in their owne Land beaten, bobb"d, and thump"d, And on Record, left them the heires of shame.
Shall these enioy our Lands? lye with our Wiues?
Rauish our daughters?
Drum afarre off
Hearke, I heare their Drumme, Right Gentlemen of England, fight boldly yeomen, Draw Archers draw your Arrowes to the head, Spurre your proud Horses hard, and ride in blood, Amaze the welkin with your broken staues.
Enter a Messenger.
What sayes Lord Stanley, will he bring his power?
Mes. My Lord, he doth deny to come
King. Off with his sonne Georges head
Nor. My Lord, the Enemy is past the Marsh: After the battaile, let George Stanley dye
King. A thousand hearts are great within my bosom.
Aduance our Standards, set vpon our Foes, Our Ancient word of Courage, faire S[aint]. George Inspire vs with the spleene of fiery Dragons: Vpon them, Victorie sits on our helpes.
Alarum, excursions. Enter Catesby.
Cat. Rescue my Lord of Norfolke, Rescue, Rescue: The King enacts more wonders then a man, Daring an opposite to euery danger: His horse is slaine, and all on foot he fights, Seeking for Richmond in the throat of death: Rescue faire Lord, or else the day is lost.
Alarums.
Enter Richard.
Rich. A Horse, a Horse, my Kingdome for a Horse
Cates. Withdraw my Lord, Ile helpe you to a Horse Rich. Slaue, I haue set my life vpon a cast, And I will stand the hazard of the Dye: I thinke there be sixe Richmonds in the field, Fiue haue I slaine to day, in stead of him.
A Horse, a Horse, my Kingdome for a Horse.
Alarum, Enter Richard and Richmond, they fight, Richard is slaine.
Retreat, and Flourish. Enter Richmond, Derby bearing the Crowne, with diuers other Lords.
Richm. G.o.d, and your Armes Be prais"d Victorious Friends; The day is ours, the bloudy Dogge is dead
Der. Couragious Richmond, Well hast thou acquit thee: Loe, Heere these long vsurped Royalties, From the dead Temples of this bloudy Wretch, Haue I pluck"d off, to grace thy Browes withall.
Weare it, and make much of it
Richm. Great G.o.d of Heauen, say Amen to all.
But tell me, is yong George Stanley liuing?
Der. He is my Lord, and safe in Leicester Towne, Whither (if you please) we may withdraw vs
Richm. What men of name are slaine on either side?
Der. Iohn Duke of Norfolke, Walter Lord Ferris, Sir Robert Brokenbury, and Sir William Brandon
Richm. Interre their Bodies, as become their Births, Proclaime a pardon to the Soldiers fled, That in submission will returne to vs, And then as we haue tane the Sacrament, We will vnite the White Rose, and the Red.
Smile Heauen vpon this faire Coniunction, That long haue frown"d vpon their Enmity: What Traitor heares me, and sayes not Amen?
England hath long beene mad, and scarr"d her selfe; The Brother blindely shed the Brothers blood; The Father, rashly slaughtered his owne Sonne; The Sonne compell"d, beene Butcher to the Sire; All this diuided Yorke and Lancaster, Diuided, in their dire Diuision.
O now, let Richmond and Elizabeth, The true Succeeders of each Royall House, By G.o.ds faire ordinance, conioyne together: And let thy Heires (G.o.d if thy will be so) Enrich the time to come, with Smooth-fac"d Peace, With smiling Plenty, and faire Prosperous dayes.
Abate the edge of Traitors, Gracious Lord, That would reduce these bloudy dayes againe, And make poore England weepe in Streames of Blood; Let them not liue to taste this Lands increase, That would with Treason, wound this faire Lands peace.
Now Ciuill wounds are stopp"d, Peace liues agen; That she may long liue heere, G.o.d say, Amen.