This, and Saint George to boot!-What think'st thou,
Nor. A good direction, warlike sovereign.— This found I on my tent this morning.
[Giving a Paper. K. Rich. "Jocky of Norfolk be not too1 bold,
For Dickon thy master is bought and sold."
A thing devised by the enemy.—
Go, gentlemen; every man to his charge.
Let not our babbling 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.
March on, join bravely, let us to 't pell-mell;
If not to heaven, then hand in hand to hell.-
What shall I say more than I have inferr'd?
Remember who you are to cope withal;-
A sort of vagabonds, rascals, and run-aways,
A scum of Bretagnes, and base lackey peasants,
Whom their o'er-cloyed country vomits forth
To desperate ventures and assur'd destruction.
You sleeping safe, they bring you to unrest;
You having lands, and bless'd with beauteous wives,
They would distrain2 the one, distain the other.
And who doth lead them but a paltry fellow,
Long kept in Bretagne at our mother's cost;
A milk-sop, 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 famish'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 these bastard Bretagnes; 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? lie with our wives?
Ravish our daughters ?-Hark, I hear their drum.
[Drum afar off.
1 All old copies but quarto, 1634, read: so. VOL. V.-31
Fight, gentlemen of England! fight, bold1 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?
Mess. My lord, he doth deny to come.
K. Rich. Off with his son George's head.
Nor. My lord, the enemy is pass'd the marsh: After the battle let George Stanley die.
K. Rich. A thousand hearts are great within my
Advance our standards! set upon our foes!
Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint George,
Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons!
Upon them! Victory sits on our helms!
SCENE IV. Another part of the Field. Alarum: Excursions. Enter NORFOLK, and Forces; to him CATESBY.
Cate. Rescue, my lord of Norfolk! rescue, rescue ! The king enacts more wonders than a man,
Daring an opposite to every danger.
His horse is slain, and all on foot he fights,
Seeking for Richmond in the throat of death.
Rescue, fair lord, or else the day is lost!
Alarum. Enter King RICHARD.
K. Rich. A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse!
Cate. Withdraw, my lord; I'll help you to a horse.
K. Rich. Slave! I have set my life upon a cast,
And I will stand the hazard of the die.
I think there be six Richmonds in the field;
Five have I slain to-day, instead of him.—
A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse!
Alarums. Enter King RICHARD and RICHMOND; and
exeunt, fighting. Retreat and flourish. Then enter
RICHMOND, STANLEY bearing the Crown, with divers
other Lords, and Forces.
Richm. God, and your arms, be prais'd, victorious friends,
The day is ours, the bloody dog is dead.
Stan. Courageous Richmond, well hast thou acquit
Lo! here, this long-usurped royalty,
From the dead temples of this bloody wretch
Have I pluck'd off, to grace thy brows withal:
Wear it, enjoy it, and make much of it.
Richm. Great God of heaven, say, amen, to all !But, tell me, is young George Stanley living? Stan. He is, my lord, and safe in Leicester town; Whither, if you please, we may withdraw us.
Richm. What men of name are slain on either side?
Stan. John duke of Norfolk, Walter lord Ferrers,
Sir Robert Brakenbury, and Sir William Brandon.
Richm. 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 and the red:-
Smile heaven upon this fair conjunction,
That long hath frown'd upon their enmity!-
What traitor hears me, and says not, amen?
England hath long been mad, and scarr'd herself;
The brother blindly shed the brother's blood,
The father rashly slaughter'd his own son,
The son, compell'd, been butcher to the sire;
All this divided York and Lancaster,
Divided in their dire division, 3
O! now, let Richmond and Elizabeth,
The true succeeders of each royal house,
By God's fair ordinance conjoin together:
And let their heirs, (God, if thy will be so)
Enrich the time to come with smooth-fac'd peace,
With smiling plenty, and fair prosperous days!
Rebates 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 increase,
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!
1 these royalties in folio. 2 enjoy it not in folio. 3 f. e. place a
full stop at the end of this line. Abate: in f.e.
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