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Enter RATCLIFF; CATESBY following.
Rat. Most mighty sovereign, on the western coast
Rideth a puissant navy; to the shore
Throng many doubtful hollow-hearted friends,
Unarm’d, and unresolv'd to beat them back:
'Tis thought, that Richmond is their admiral;
And there they hull, expecting but the aid
Of Buckingham, to welcome them ashore.
K. Rich. Some light-foot friend post to the duke of

Norfolk :-
Ratcliff, thyself,-or Catesby; where is he?

Cate. Here, my good lord.
K. Rich.

Catesby, fly to the duke.
Cate. 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.

[Exit. Rat. What, may it please you, shall I do at Salisbury? K. Rich. Why, what wouldst thou do there, before Rat. Your highness told me, I should post before.

Enter STANLEY. K. Rich. My mind is chang’d.-Stanley, what

news with you? Stan. None good, my liege, to please you with the

hearing; Nor pone so bad, but well may be reported.

K. Rich. Heyday, a riddle! neither good nor bad ! What need'st thou run so many miles about,

Cate. I go.

I go?

When thou may'st tell thy tale the nearest way?
Once more, what news?

Richmond is on the seas.
K. Rich. There let him sink, and be the seas on him !
White-liver'd runagate, what doth he there?

Stan. I know not, mighty sovereign, but by guess. K. Rich. Well, as you guess?

Stan. Stirr'd up by Dorset, Buckingham, and Morton, He makes for England, here to claim the crown.

K. Rich. Is the chair empty? is the sword unsway'd? Is the king dead? the empire unpossess'd? What heir of York is there alive, but we? And who is England's king, but great York's heir? Then, tell me, what makes he upon the seas?

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 Welshmav 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? Are they pot now upon the western shore, Safe-conducting the rebels from their ships ?

Stan. No, my good lord, my friends are in the north. 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 leave, I'll muster up my friends; and meet your grace, Where, and what time, your majesty shall please.

K. Rich. Ay, ay, thou wouldst be gone to join with I will not trust you, sir.

[Richmond : 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


[Exit Stanley. Enter a Messenger. Mess. My gracious sovereign, now in Devonshire, As I by friends am well advertised, Sir Edward Courtney, and the haughty prelate, Bishop of Exeter, his elder brother, With many more confederates, are in arms.

Enter another Messenger. 2 Mess. In Kent, my liege, the Guildfords are in arms; And every hour more competitors Flock to the rebels, and their power grows strong.

Enter another Messenger. 3 Mess. My lord, the army of great BuckinghamK. Rich. Out on ye, owls! nothing but songs of death?

[He strikes him. There, take thou that, till thou bring better news.

3 Mess. The news I have to tell your majesty,
Is,-that, by sudden floods and fall of waters,
Buckingham's army is dispers’d and scatter'd;
And he himself wander'd away alone,
No man knows whither.
K. Rich.

O, I cry you mercy:
There is my purse to cure that blow of thine.
Hath any well-advised friend proclaim'd
Reward to him that brings the traitor in?
3 Mess. Such proclamation hath been made, my liege.

Enter another Messenger. 4 Mess. Sir Thomas Lovel, and lord marquis Dorset, "Tis said, my liege, in Yorkshire are in arms. But this good comfort bring I to your highness,The Bretagne navy is dispers’d by tempest: Richmond, in Dorsetshire, sent out a boat Unto the shore, to ask those on the banks, If they were his assistants, yea, or no; Who answer'd him, they came from Buckingham Upon his party: he, mistrusting them, Hois'd sail, an


course again for Bretagne.

K. Rich. March on, march on, since we are up in

arms; If not to fight with foreign enemies, Yet to beat down these rebels here at home.

Enter CATESBY. Cate. My liege, the duke of Buckingham is taken, That is the best news; That the earl of Richmond Is, with a mighty power, landed at Milford, Is colder news, but yet they must be told. K. Rich. Away towards Salisbury; while we reasou

here, A royal battle might be won and lost :Some one take order, Buckingham be brought To Salisbury ;-the rest march on with me. [Ereunt.

in hold;


Stan. Sir Christopher, tell Richmond this from me:-
That, in the sty of this most bloody boar,
My son, George Stanley, is frank'd

If I revolt, oft goes young George's head;
The fear of that withholds 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, sir William Stanley;
Oxford, redoubted' Pembroke, sir James Blunt,
And Rice ap Thomas, with a valiant crew;
And many other of great fame and worth:
And towards London do they bend their course,
If by the way they be not fought withal.

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.
[Gives Papers to Sir Christopher.


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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?
Sheriff. No, my good lord; therefore be patient.
Buck. Hastings, and Edward's children, Rivers,

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?

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

This is the day, which, in king Edward's time,

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