Q. Eliz. An honest tale speeds best being plainly told. K. Rich. Then in plain terms tell her my loving tale. Q. Eliz. Plain and not honest is too harsh a style. K. Rich. Your reasons are too shallow and too quick. Q. Eliz. O no, my reasons are too deep and dead: Too deep and dead, poor infants, in their graves. K. Rich. Harp not on that string, madam: that is past. Swear not by time to come; for that thou hast Misused ere used, by times ill-used o'erpast. K. Rich. As I intend to prosper and repent: So thrive I in my dangerous attempt Of hostile arms: myself myself confound: Heaven and fortune bar me happy hours: Day yield me not thy light, nor night thy rest: Be opposite all planets of good luck To my proceeding,-if with pure heart's love, Immaculate devotion, holy thoughts, I tender not thy beauteous princely daughter. In her consists my happiness and thine: Without her, follows to myself and thee, Q. Eliz. Harp on it still shall I till heartstrings Herself, the land, and many a christian soul, break. K. Rich. Now by my George, my garter, and my crown,— Q. Eliz. Profaned, dishonoured, and the third usurped. K. Rich. I swear, Q. Eliz. By nothing: for this is no oath. Thy George, profaned, hath lost his holy honour; Thy garter, blemished, pawned his knightly virtue; Thy crown, usurped, disgraced his kingly glory. K. Rich. Now by the world,- 'Tis full of thy foul wrongs. K. Rich. My father's death,- Thy life hath that dishonoured. Thyself is self-misused. Q. Eliz. God's wrong is most of all. Death, desolation, ruin, and decay. Q. Eliz. Shall I be tempted of the devil thus? Q. Eliz. But thou didst kill my children. them; Where in that nest of spicery they shall breed Selves of themselves, to your recomforture. Q. Eliz. Shall I go win my daughter to thy will? K. Rich. And be a happy mother by the deed. Q. Eliz. I go.-Write to me very shortly, And you shall understand from me her mind. K. Rich. Bear her my true love's kiss, and so farewell. [Kissing her.-Exit QUEEN ELIZABETH. Relenting fool, and shallow changing woman! How now what news? Enter RATCLIFF; CATESBY following. Rat. Most mighty sovereign, on the western coast Rideth a puissant navy; to the shore K. Rich. Some lightfoot friend post to the Ratcliff, thyself,—or Catesby; where is he? Cute. I will, my lord, with all convenient haste. K. Rich. Ratcliff, come hither: post to Salisbury: When thou com'st thither,-Dull unmindful villain, [To CATESBY. Why stay'st thou here, and go'st not to the duke? Cate. First, mighty liege, tell me your highness' pleasure, What from your grace I shall deliver to him. K. Rich. O true, good Catesby:-bid him levy straight The greatest strength and power he can make, And meet me suddenly at Salisbury. Stan. Richmond is on the seas. K. Rich. There let him sink, and be the seas on him! White-livered runagate, what doth he there? Stan. I know not, mighty sovereign, but by guess. K. Rich. Well, as you guess? Stan. Stirred up by Dorset, Buckingham, and Morton, He makes for England, here to claim the crown. K. Rich. Is the chair empty; is the sword unswayed; Is the king dead; the empire unpossessed? Stan. Unless for that, my liege, I cannot guess. K. Rich. Unless for that he comes to be your liege, You cannot guess wherefore the Welshman comes. Thou wilt revolt and fly to him, I fear, Stan. No, mighty liege; therefore mistrust me not. K. Rich. Where is thy power, then, to beat him back? Where be thy tenants and thy followers? K. Rich. Cold friends to me! What do they in the north, When they should serve their sovereign in the west? Stan. They have not been commanded, mighty king: Pleaseth your majesty to give me loave, I will not trust you, sir. Stan. Most mighty sovereign, You have no cause to hold my friendship doubtful: I never was nor never will be false. K. Rich. Well, go muster men. But hear you, leave behind Your son, George Stanley: look your heart be firm, Or else his head's assurance is but frail. Stan. So deal with him as I prove true to you. [Exit STANLEY. Enter a Messenger. Mess. My gracious sovereign, now in Devorshire, As I by friends am well advertised, Enter another Messenger. 2nd Mess. In Kent, my liege, the Guilfords are in arms; And every hour more competitors Enter another Messenger. 3rd Mess. My lord, the army of great Buckingham,K. Rich. Out on ye, owls! of death? nothing but songs [He strikes him. There, take thou that, till thou bring better news. 3rd Mess. The news I have to tell your ma jesty Is that, by sudden floods and fall of waters, Thus far into the bowels of the land In your embowelled bosoms, this foul swine By this one bloody trial of sharp war. Oxf. Every man's conscience is a thousand Enter KING RICHARD and Forces; the DUKE OF NORFOLK, EARL OF SURREY, and others. K. Rich. Here pitch our tents, even here in Bosworth field. My lord of Surrey, why look you so sad? K. Rich. My lord of Norfolk,- K. Rich. Norfolk, we must have knocks: ha! must we not? Nor. We must both give and take, my loving lord. K. Rich. Up with my tent: here will I lie tonight : [Soldiers begin to set up the KING'S Tent. But where to-morrow?-Well, all's one for that.Who hath descried 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. Richm. The weary sun hath made a golden sct, 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: The Earl of Pembroke keeps his regiment: Good Captain Blunt, bear my good night to him, And by the second hour in the morning Desire the earl to see me in my tent. Yet one thing more, good captain, do for me: Where is Lord Stanley quartered, do you know? Blunt. Unless I have mista'en his colours much (Which well I am assured I have not done), Richm. If without peril it be possible, Sweet Blunt, make some good means to speak with him, And give him from me this most needful note. Blunt. Upon my life, my lord, I'll undertake it: SCENE I.-Salisbury. An open Place. Enter the Sheriff and Guard, with BUCKINGHAM, led to execution. Buck. 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, Sher. It is, my lord. Buck. Why then All-Souls' day is my body's doomsday. This is the day which, in King Edward's time, By the false faith of him whom most I trusted: Thus far into the bowels of the land In your embowelled bosoms, this foul swine Oxf. Every man's conscience is a thousand 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. Richm. All for our vantage. Then, in God's Enter KING RICHARD and Forces; the DUKE OF NORFOLK, EARL OF SURREY, and others. K. Rich. Here pitch our tents, even here in Bosworth field. My lord of Surrey, why look you so sad? K. Rich. My lord of Norfolk,- Here, most gracious liege. K. Rich. Norfolk, we must have knocks: ha! must we not? Nor. We must both give and take, my loving lord. K. Rich. Up with my tent: here will I lie tonight [Soldiers begin to set up the KING's Tent. But where to-morrow?-Well, all's one for that.Who hath descried 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; Tent. 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: The Earl of Pembroke keeps his regiment: Good Captain Blunt, bear my good night to him, And by the second hour in the morning Desire the earl to see me in my tent. Yet one thing more, good captain, do for me: Where is Lord Stanley quartered, do you know? Blunt. Unless I have mista'en his colours much (Which well I am assured I have not done), Richm. If without peril it be possible, Sweet Blunt, make some good means to speak with him, And give him from me this most needful note. Blunt. Upon my life, my lord, I'll undertake it: |