[To Richmond] I died for hope(106) ere I could lend thee aid :
But cheer thy heart, and be thou not dismay'd:
God and good angels fight on Richmond's side;
And Richard falls in height of all his pride.

[The Ghosts vanish. King Richard starts out
of his dream.

K. Rich. Give me another horse,-bind up my wounds,Have mercy, Jesu!-Soft! I did but dream.O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me!— The lights burn blue.-It is now dead midnight. Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh. What do I fear? myself? there's none else by: Richard loves Richard; that is, I am I.

any good

Is there a murderer here? No ;-yes, I am :
Then fly. What, from myself? Great reason why,-
Lest I revenge myself upon myself.(107)
Alack, I love myself. Wherefore? for
That I myself have done unto myself?
O, no! alas, I rather hate myself
For hateful deeds committed by myself!
I am a villain: yet I lie, I am not.

Fool, of thyself speak well :-fool, do not flatter.
My conscience hath a thousand several tongues,
And every tongue brings in a several tale,
And every tale condemns me for a villain.
Perjury, perjury, in the high'st degree;
Murder, stern murder, in the dir'st degree;
All several sins, all us'd in each degree,
Throng to the bar, crying all " Guilty! guilty!"
I shall despair. There is no creature loves me ;
And if I die, no soul shall pity me:

Nay, wherefore should they,-since that I myself
Find in myself no pity to myself?

Rat. My lord,

Re-enter RATCLIFF.

K. Rich. Who's there?

Rat. My lord,(108) 'tis I. The early village-cock

Hath twice done salutation to the morn;

Your friends are up, and buckle on their armour.

K. Rich. O Ratcliff, I have dream'd a fearful dream!What thinkest thou,-will our friends prove all true?

Rat. No doubt, my lord.

K. Rich.

O Ratcliff, I fear, I fear!-
Methought the souls of all that I had murder'd
Came to my tent; and every one did threat

To-morrow's vengeance on the head of Richard.

Rat. Nay, good my lord, be not afraid of shadows. (109) K. Rich. 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 I'll play the(110) eaves-dropper, To hear if any mean to shrink from me.

[Exeunt King Richard and Ratcliff.

Re-enter OXFORD, with other Lords, &c.

Lords. Good morrow, Richmond!

Richm. [waking] Cry mercy, lords and watchful gentlemen, That you have ta'en a tardy sluggard here.

Lords. How have you slept, my lord?

Richm. The sweetest sleep, and fairest-boding dreams

That ever enter'd in a drowsy head,

Have I since your departure had, my lords.

Methought their souls, whose bodies Richard murder'd,

Came to my tent, and cried on victory :(111)

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 stroke of four.

Richm. Why, then 'tis time to arm and give direction.
[He advances to the Troops.

More than I have said, loving countrymen,
The leisure and enforcement of the time
Forbids to dwell upon: yet remember this,—
God and our good cause fight upon our side;
The prayers of holy saints and wronged souls,
Like high-rear'd bulwarks, stand 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 slaughter'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 falsely set;
One that hath ever been God's enemy:
Then, if you fight against God's enemy,
God will, in justice, ward you as his soldiers;
If you do sweat to put a tyrant down,
You sleep in peace, the tyrant being slain;
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 ;
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 corpse 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, cheerfully ;(112)
God and Saint George! Richmond and victory!

[Exeunt.

Re-enter King RICHARD, RATCLIFF, Attendants, and Forces.

K. Rich. What said Northumberland as touching Rich

mond?

Rat. That he was never trainèd up in arms.

K. Rich. He said the truth: and what said Surrey, then? Rat. He smil'd, and said, "The better for our purpose." K. Rich. He was in the right; and so, indeed, it is.

[Clock strikes.

Not I, my lord.

Tell the clock there.-Give me a calendar.-
Who saw the sun to-day?

Rat.

K. Rich. Then he disdains to shine; for, by the book,

He should have brav'd the east an hour ago:
A black day will it be to somebody.—
Ratcliff,-

Rat. My lord?

K. Rich.

The sun will not be seen to-day;
The sky doth frown and lour upon our army.
I would these dewy tears were from the ground.
Not shine to-day! Why, what is that to me
More than to Richmond? for the selfsame heaven
That frowns on me looks sadly upon him.

Enter NORFOLK.

Nor. Arm, arm, my lord; the foe vaunts in the field. K. Rich. Come, bustle, 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 battle shall be orderèd :—
My foreward shall be drawn out all in length,
Consisting equally of horse and foot;
Our archers shall be placed in the midst:
John Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Earl of Surrey,
Shall have the leading of this foot and horse.
They thus directed, we ourself will follow(113)
In the main battle; whose puissance on either side
Shall be well winged with our chiefest horse.

This, and Saint George to boot!-What think'st thou, Nor

folk?

Nor. A good direction, warlike sovereign.

This found I(114) on my tent this morning. [Giving a scroll. K. Rich. [reads] "Jockey of Norfolk, be not too bold, (115)

For Dickon thy master is bought and sold."

A thing devised by the enemy.

Go, gentlemen, every man unto his charge:

Let not our babbling dreams affright our souls;

Conscience is but a word that cowards

Devis'd at first to keep the strong in awe:

(116)

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.

[To his Soldiers] What shall I say more than I have inferr'd?

Remember whom you are to cope withal ;

A sort of vagabonds, rascals, runaways,(117)
A scum of Bretagnes, and base lackey peasants,
Whom their o'er-cloyèd country vomits forth
To desperate ventures(118) and assur'd destruction.
You sleeping safe, they bring to you unrest;
You having lands, and bless'd with beauteous wives,
They would distrain(119) the one, distain the other.
And who doth lead them but a paltry fellow,
Long kept in Bretagne at our mother's cost ?(120)
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 overweening 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?—[Drum afar off.] Hark! I hear their drum.

Fight, gentlemen of England! fight, bold 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(121) his son George's head!
Nor. My lord, the enemy is past the marsh:

After the battle let George Stanley die.

K. Rich. A thousand hearts are great within my bosom : 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.

[Exeunt.