SCENE V.

Lord STANLEY's House. Enter Lord STANLEY,
Sir CHRISTOPHER URSWICK.

and

Stan. Sir Christopher, tell Richmond this from

me:

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That, in the stye of this most bloody boar,
My son George Stanley is frank'd up in hold;
If I revolt, off goes young George's head;
The fear of that with-holds my present aid.
But tell me, where is princely Richmond now?
Chris. At Pembroke, or at Ha'rford-west, in Wales.
Stan. What men of name resort to him?
Chris. Sir Walter Herbert, a renowned soldier ;
Sir Gilbert Talbot, and Sir William Stanley;
Oxford, redoubted Pembroke, Sir James Blunt,
And Rice ap Thomas, with a valiant crew;
And many other of great name and worth;
And towards London do they bend their course,
If by the way they be not fought withal.

861 Stan. Well, hie thee to thy lord, commend me

to him;

Tell him, the queen hath heartily consented
He shall espouse Elizabeth her daughter.
These letters will resolve him of my mind.
Farewel.

[Exeunt.

ACT

ACT V. SCENE 1.

Salisbury. Enter the Sheriff, with BUCKINGHAM, led to Execution.

Buckingham.

WILL not king Richard let me speak with him?
Sher. No, my good lord; therefore be patient.
Buck. Hastings, and Edward's children, Rivers,
Grey,

Holy king Henry, and thy fair son Edward,
Vaughan, and all that have miscarried
By underhand corrupted foul injustice;
If that your moody discontented souls

Do through the clouds behold this present hour,
Even for revenge mock my destruction!-

This is All-Souls' day, fellows, is it not?

Sher. It is, my lord.

10

Buck. Why, then All-Souls' day is my body's

doomsday.

This is the day, which, in king Edward's time,
I wish'd might fall on me, when I was found
False to his children, or his wife's allies;
This is the day, wherein I wish'd to fall
By the false faith of him whom most I trusted;
This, this All-Souls' day to my fearful soul,
Is the determin'd respite of my wrongs.
That high All-seer whom I dally'd with,
Hath turn'd my feigned prayer on my head,

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And

And given in earnest what I begg'd in jest.

Thus doth he force the swords of wicked men
To turn their own points on their masters' bosoms:
Thus Margaret's curse falls heavy on my neck—
When he, quoth she, shall split thy heart with sorrow,
Remember Margaret was a prophetess.—

Come, sirs, convey me to the block of shame; Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of blame. [Exeunt BUCKINGHAM, &c.

SCENE II.

Tamworth, on the Borders of Leicestershire. A Camp. Enter HENRY Earl of RICHMOND, Earl of OxFORD, Sir JAMES BLUNT, Sir WALTER HERBERT, and others, with Drum and Colours.

Richm. Fellows in arms, and my most loving

friends,

Bruis'd underneath the yoke of tyranny,

Thus far into the bowels of the land

Have we march'd on without impediment;

And here receive we from our father Stanley
Lines of fair comfort and encouragement.
The wretched, bloody, and usurping boar,
That spoil'd your summer fields, and fruitful vines,

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Swills your warm blood like wash, and makes his

trough

In your embowell'd bosoms-this foul swine

Lies now even in the centre of this isle,

Near to the town of Leicester, as we learn:
From Tamworth thither, is but one day's march.
In God's name, cheerly on, courageous friends,
To reap the harvest of perpetual peace

By this one bloody trial of sharp war.

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Oxf. Every man's conscience is a thousand swords, To fight against that bloody homicide.

Herb. I doubt not, but his friends will turn to us. Blunt. He hath no friends, but who are friends for

fear;

Which, in his dearest need, will fly from him.

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Richm. All for our vantage. Then, in God's name,

march:

True hope is swift, and flies with swallow's wings; Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

Bosworth-Field. Enter King RICHARD in Arms, with the Duke of NORFOLK, Earl of SURREY, and others.

K. Rich. Here pitch our tent, even here in Bosworth-Field.

My lord of Surrey, why look you so sad ?

Sur. My heart is ten times lighter than my looks.
K. Rich. My lord of Norfolk-

Nor.

Nor. Here, most gracious liege.

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K. Rich. Norfolk, we must have knocks

Ha!

must we not?

Nor. We must both give and take, my loving

lord.

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K. Rich. Up with my tent: Here will I lie to-night; But where, to-morrow?-Well, all's one for that.Who hath descry'd the number of the traitors?

Nor. Six or seven thousand is their utmost power.' K. Rich. Why, our battalia trebles that account : Besides, the king's name is a tower of strength, Which they upon the adverse faction want.Up with the tent.-Come, noble gentlemen, Let us survey the vantage of the ground;Call for some men of sound direction :Let's want no discipline, make no delay; For, lords, to-morrow is a busy day.

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[Exeunt.

Enter on the other Side of the Field, RICHMOND, Sir
WILLIAM BRANDON, OXFORD, DORSET, &c.

Richm. The weary sun hath made a golden set,
And, by the bright track of his fiery car,
Gives token of a goodly day to-morrow.

Sir William Brandon, you shall bear my standard.—
Give me some ink and paper in my tent ;-
I'll draw the form and model of our battle,
Limit each leader to his several charge,
And part in just proportion our small power.
My lord of Oxford-you, Sir William Brandon-
And you, Sir Walter Herbert, stay with me:-

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