Imatges de pÓgina
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Enter the Ghosts of the two young Princes. Gbofts. Dream on thy cousins smother'd in the Tower: Let us be lead within thy bosom, Richard, [To K. Rich. And weigh thee down to ruin, shame, and death! Thy Nephews fouls bid thee despair and die.

Sleep, Richmond, Deep in peace, and wake in joy. Good angels guard thee from the boar’s annoy! [To Richm. Live, and beget a happy race of Kings. Edward's unhappy fons do bid thee flourish.

Enter the Gboft of Anne bis wife.
Gboft. Richard, thy wife, that wretched Anne thy wife,
That never slept a quiet hour with thee, [To K. Richa
Now fills thy Neep with perturbations :
To-morrow in the battel think on me,
And fall thy edgeless sword: despair and die !

Thou quiet soul, neep thou a quiet sleep: [To Richm.
Dream of success and happy victory,
Thy adverfary's wife doth pray for thee,

Enter the Ghost of Buckingham.
Ghoft. The first was I that help'd thee to the crown:
The last was I that felt thy tyranny.

(To K. Rich, o, in the battel think on Buckingham, And die in terror of thy guiltiness! Dream on, dream on, of bloody deeds and death ; Fainting despair, despairing yield thy breath!

I dy'd forsoke, * ere I could lend thee aid; [To Richme, But cheer thy heart, and be thou not dismay'd: God and good angels fight on Richmond's fide, And Richard fall in height of all his pride!

[The Ghosts vanih. K. Rich. fiarts out of bis dream, · K. Rich, Give me another horse -bind up my wounds, Have mercy, Jesu - soft, I did but dream. O coward conscience! how doft thou afflict me! The lights bum blue is it not dead midnight? Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh. What ? do I fear my felf? there's none else by ;

* This, as appears from history, was the case of the Duke of Buckingham: that being itopt with his army upon the banks of See vern by great deluges of rain, he was deserted by his foldiers, who being in great distress, hair familh'd for want of victuals, and defti. tute of Pay, disbanded themselves and Aed,

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*

Is there a murth’rer here? no ; yes, I am. +
My conscience hath a thousand sev'ral tongues,
And ev'ry tongue brings in a sev'ral tale,
And ev'ry tale condemns me for a villain.
Perjury, perjury in high'st degree,
Murther, itern murther in the dir'ft degree,
All several fins all us'd in each degree,
Throng to the bar, all crying, guilty, guilty !
I shall despair : there is no creature loves me :
And if I die, no soul will pity me.
Methought, the souls of all that I had murther'd
Came to my tent, and every one did threat
To-morrow's vengeance on the head of Richard,

Enter Ratcliff,
Rat. My Lord !
K. Ricb. Who's there?

Rar. Ratcliff, my Lord. Thy early village-cock
Hath twice done falutation to the morn ;
Your friends are up, and buckle on their armour.

K. Ricb. Ratcliff, I fear, I fear
Rat. Nay, good my Lord, be not afraid of shadows,

K. Ricb. By the Apostle Paul, shadows to-night
Have struck more terror to the soul of Richard,
Than can the substance of ten thousand soldiers
Armed in proof, and led by shallow Richmond.
It is not yet near day. Come, go with me,
Under our tents; l'll play the eaves-dropper,
To hear if any mean to shrink from me,

[Exeunt K. Richard and Ratclift, - No; yes, I am: Then fly

what, from my self? great reason; why?
Left I revenge. What? my self on my felf?
I love my felf. Wherefore? for any good
That I my self have done unto my self?

Alas, I rather hate my self,
For hateful deeds committed by my self.
I am a villain; yet I lie, ! am not.
Fool, of thy self speak well ---- Fool do not flatter,
My conscience hath, &c.

no soul will pity me.
Nay, wherefore should they? since that I my self
Find in my lelf no pity to my self.
Methought, the souls of, 86,
VOL. VI,

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SCENE

O no.

SCENE V.
Enter the Lords to Richmond fitting in bis Tent,
Lords. Good morrow, Richmond!

Ricbm. I cry your mercy, Lords and watchful gentlemen, That you have ta'en a tardy Nuggard here.

Lords. How have you slept, my Lord ?

Richm. The sweetest Neep and faireft boading dreams, That ever enter'd in a drowsie head, Have I fince your departure had, my Lords. Methought their souls whose bodies Richard murther'da Came to my tent, and cried out, Victory! I promise you my heart is very jocund, In the remembrance of so fair a dream. How far into the morning is it, Lords ?

Lords, Upon the stroak of four.

Richm. Why then 'tis time to arm and give direction.
More than I have said, loving countrymen,
The leisure and enforcement of the time
Forbids to dwell on ; yet remember this,
God and our good cause fight upon our fide,
The pray'rs of holy saints, and wronged fouls,
Like high-rear'd bulwarks ftand before our faces..
Richard except, those 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 Naughter'd those that were the means to help him.
A base foul stone, made precious by the foil
Of England's chair, where he is falfely set :
One that hath ever been God's enemy;
Then if you fight against Gud's enemy,
God will in justice ward you as his soldiers.
If
you

do sweat to put a tyrant down,
You'll Neep in peace, the tyrant being Nain:
If you do fight against your country's foes,
Your country's fat shall pay your pains the hire:
If you do fight in safeguard of your wives,
Your wives shall welcome home the conquerors.

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If you do free your children from the sword,
Your children's children quit 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 my bold attempt
Shall be this cold corps on the earth's cold face :
But if I thrive, the gain of my attempt
The least of you shall share his part thereof.
Sound, drums, and trumpets, boldly, chearfully;
God, and Saint George! Richmond, and victory!

SCENE VI.
Enter King Richard, Ratcliff, and Catesby.
K. Rich. What said Northumberland, as touching Rich.
Rar. That he was never trained up in arms. [mond?
K. Ricb. He said the truth; and what said Surrey then?
Rat. He smil'd and said, the better for our purpose.

K. Ricb. He was i'th' right, and so indeed it is.
Tell the clock there - give me a Kalendar. [Clock Brikeso
Who saw the sun to-day?

Rat. Not I, my Lord.

K. Ricb. Then he disdains to shine; for by the book,
He should have brav'd the east an hour ago
A black day it will be to some body. Ratcliff!

Rat. My Lord ?

K. Rich. The sun will not be seen to-day ;
The sky doth frown and lowre upon our army
I would thefe dewy tears were from the ground-
Not thine to-day? why, what is that to me
More than to Richmond ? for the self-fame heay'a
That frowns on me, looks fadly upon him.

Enter Norfolk.
Nor. Arm, arm, my Lord, the foe vaúnts in the field,

K. Ricb. Come, buttle, bustle -- caparison my horse,
Call up Lord Stanley, bid him bring his power ;
I will lead forth my soldiers to the plain,
And thus my battel shall be ordered.
My foreward battel shall be drawn in length,
Confifting equally of horse and foot :
Our archers Thall be placed in the midst;
Jobn Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Earl of Surrey,

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Shall

Shall have the leading of the foot and horse,
They thus directed, we our self will follow
In the main battel, which 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 paper found I on my tent this morning. (Giving a fcrowl.
Jocky of Norfolk, be not so bold,

Reads. For Dickon thy master is bought and fold, K. Rich. A thing devised by the enemy. Go, gentlemen, go each man to his charge. Let not our babling dreams affright our souls ; Conscience is but a word that cowards use, Devis'd at firft to keep the strong in awe. Our strong arms be our conscience, 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 say more than I have inferr'd ? Remember whom you are to cope withal, A sort of vagabonds, rascals, run-aways, A scum of Britons, and base lackey-peasants, Whom their o'er-cloyed country vomits forth To desperate adventures and destruction. You Neeping safe, they bring you to unrest : You having lands, and bleft with beauteous wives, They would diftrain the one, distain the other. And who doth lead them but a paltry fellow, Long kept in Bretagne at his mother's coft ? A milk-fop, one that never in his life Felt so much cold, as over shoes in snow. Let's whip these stragglers o'er the seas again, Lash hence these over-weening rags of France, These 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-Britons, whom our fathers Have in their own land beaten, bobb’d and thump'd, And on record left them the heirs of Thame. Shall these enjoy our lands ? lye with our wives ?

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