To win your daughter.

Q. Eliz.

There is no other way; Unless thou could'st put on some other shape,

And not be Richard that hath done all this.

K. Rich. Say, that I did all this for love of her? Q. Eliz. Nay, then indeed, she cannot choose but have thee,

Having bought love with such a bloody spoil.

K. Rich Look, what is done cannot be now amended:
Men shall deal unadvisedly sometimes,
Which after-hours give leisure to repent.
If I did take the kingdom from your sons,

To make amends, I'll give it to your daughter. ·
If I have kill'd the issue of your womb,
To quicken your increase, I will beget

Mine issue of your blood upon your daughter.
A grandam's name is little less in love,
Than is the doting title of a mother;
They are as children, but one step below,
Even of your mettle, of your very blood;
Of all one pain,-save for a night of groans
Endur'd of her, for whom you bid like sorrow.
Your children were vexation to your youth,
But mine shall be a comfort to your age.
The loss, you have, is but-a son being king,
And, by that loss, your daughter is made queen.
I cannot make you what amends I would,
Therefore accept such kindness as I can.
Dorset your son, that, with a fearful soul,
Leads discontented steps in foreign soil,
This fair alliance quickly shall call home
To high promotions and great dignity:

The king, that calls your beauteous daughter-wife,
Familiarly shall call thy Dorset-brother;

Again shall you be mother to a king,

And all the ruins of distressful times

Repair'd with double riches of content.

What! we have many goodly days to see:
The liquid drops of tears that you have shed,
Shall come again, transform'd to orient pearl ;
Advantaging their loan, with interest
Of ten-times-double gain of happiness.
Go then, my mother, to thy daughter go;
Make bold her bashful years with your experience:
Prepare her ears to hear a wooer's tale;
Put in her tender heart the aspiring flame
of golden sovereignty; acquaint the princess
With the sweet silent hours of marriage joys:
And when this arm of mine hath chastised
The petty rebel, dull-brain'd Buckingham,
Bound with triumphant garlands will I come,
And lead thy daughter to a conqueror's bed;
To whom I will retail my conquest won,
And she shall be sole victress, Cæsar's Cæsar.

Q. Eliz. What were I best to say? her father's brother

Would be her lord? Or shall I say, her uncle?
Or he that slew her brothers, and her uncles?
Under what title shall I woo for thee,
That God, the law, my honour, and her love,
Can make seem pleasing to her tender years?

K. Rich. Infer fair England's peace by this alliance.
Q. Eliz. Which she shall purchase with still lasting

K. Rich. Say, I will love her everlastingly.
Q. Eliz. But how long shall that title, ever, last?
K. Rich. Sweetly in force unto her fair life's end.
Q. Eliz. But how long fairly shall her sweet life last?
K. Rich. As long as heaven, and nature, lengthens it.
Q. Eliz, As long as hell, and Richard, likes of it.
K. Rich. Say, I, her sovereign, am her subject low.
Q. Eliz. But she, your subject, loaths such sove
reignty.

K. Rich. Be eloquent in my behalf to her.
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.

Q. Eliz. Harp on it still shall I, till heart-strings break.

K. Rich. Now, by my George, my garter, and my

K. Rich. Why then, by God,Q. Eliz.

God's wrong is most of all.

If thou hadst fear'd to break an oath by him,
The unity, the king thy brother made,
Had not been broken, nor my brother slain.
If thou hadst fear'd to break an oath by him,
The imperial metal, circling now thy head,
Had grac'd the tender temples of my child;
And both the princes had been breathing here,
Which now, two tender bed-fellows for dust,
Thy broken faith hath made a prey for worms.
What canst thou swear by now?

K. Rich.
By the time to come.
Q. Eliz. That thou hast wronged in the time o'er-
past;

For I myself have many tears to wash

Hereafter time, for time past, wrong'd by thee
The children live, whose parents thou hast slaughter'd,
Ungovern'd youth, to wail it in their age:

The parents live, whose children thou hast butcher'd,
Old barren plants, to wail it with their age.
Swear not by time to come; for that thou hast
Misus'd ere us'd, by times ill-us'd o'er past.

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,
Herself, the land, and many a christian soul,
Death, desolation, ruin, and decay:
It cannot be avoided, but by this;
It will not be avoided, but by this.
Therefore, dear mother, (I must call you so)
Be the attorney of my love to her.

Plead what I will be, not what I have been;
Not my deserts, but what I will deserve:
Urge the necessity and state of times,
And be not peevish found in great designs.

Q. Eliz. Shall I be tempted of the devil thus?
K. Rich. Ay, if the devil tempt thee to do good.
Q. Eliz. Shall I forget myself, to be myself?
K. Rich. Ay, if your self's remembrance wrong
yourself.

Q. Eliz. But thou didst kill my children.

K. Rich. But in your daughter's womb I bury 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 Q. Eliz. Relenting fool, and shallow, changing-woman! How Dow? what news?

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 bull, 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? Cute. 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.

Cate. I go.

[Exit.

Rat. What, may it please you, shall I do at Salisbury?

K. Rich. Why, what would'st thou do there, before I go?

Bat. 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 bearing;

Nor none 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, When thou may'st tell thy tale the nearest way? Once more, what news?

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 Mor ton,

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 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? Are they not 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 would'st be gone to join with
Richmond:

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.

Mes. 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 Mes. 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 Mes. My lord, the army of great Buckinghamof K. Rich. Out on ye, owls! nothing but songs death? [He strikes him There, take thou that, till thou bring better news. 3 Mes. 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 Mes. Such proclamation hath been made, my liege.

Enter another Messenger.

4 Mes. 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, and made his 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 reason here,

A royal battle might be won and lost :--

Some one take order, Buckingham be brought
To Salisbury ;-the rest march on with me. [Exeunt.

SCENE V.-A Room in Lord Stanley's House. En-
ter Stanley, and Sir Christopher Urswick.
Stan. Sir Christopher, tell Richmond this from me:-
That, in the sty 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 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 renowed 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.
Farewell.

[Gives papers to Sir Chris. Exeunt.

m

ACT V.

SCENE I-Salisbury. An open Place. Enter the Sheriff, and Guard, 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?

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

day.

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

I wish'd might fali 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 which I dallied with,
Hath turn'd my feigned prayer on my head,
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.

Enter with

SCENE II-Plain near Tamworth.
Drum and Colours, Richmond, Oxford, Sir James
Blunt, Sir Walter Herbert, and others, with Forces,
marching.

Rich. 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,
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.

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.

Rich. 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 and Forces; the Duke of Norfolk, Earl of Surrey, and others.

K. Rich. Here pitch our tents, even here in Bos

worth 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.

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 to-night; [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.

Enter on the other side of the field, Richmond, Sir William Brandon, Oxford, and other Lords. Some of the Soldiers pitch Richmond's Tent.

Rich. 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 quarter'd, do you know? Blunt. Unless I have mista'en his colours much, (Which, well I am assur'd, I have not done,) His regiment lies half a mile at least South from the mighty power of the king.

Rich. 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; And so, God give you quiet rest to-night!

Rich. Good night, good captain Blunt. Come, gen-
tlemen,

Let us consult upon to-morrow's business;
In to my tent, the air is raw and cold.

[They withdraw into the Tent. Enter, to his Tent, King Richard, Norfolk, Ratcliff, and Catesby.

K. Rich. What is't o'clock?
Cate.

It's nine o'clock.

K. Rich.

It's supper time, my lord;

I will not sup to-night.

Give me some ink and paper.

What, is my beaver easier than it was?

And all my armour laid into my tent?

Cate. It is, my liege; and all things are in readiness. K. Rich. Good Norfolk, hie thee to thy charge; Use careful watch, choose trusty sentinels.

K. Rich. Saw'st thou the melancholy lord Northum

berland?

Rat. Thomas the earl of Surrey, and himself,
Much about cock-shut time, from troop to troop,
Went through the army, cheering up the soldiers.
K. Rich. I am satisfied. Give me a bowl of wine:
I have not that alacrity of spirit,

Nor cheer of mind, that I was wont to have.➡
So, set it down.-Is ink and paper ready?
Rat. It is, my lord.

K. Rich.

Bid my guard watch; leave me, About the mid of night, come to my tent And help to arm me.-Leave me, I say.

[King Richard retires into his Tent. Exeunt Ratcliff and Catesby.

Richmond's Tent opens, and discovers him and his
Officers, &c. Enter Stanley.

Stan. Fortune and victory sit on thy helm!
Rich. All comfort that the dark night can afford,
Be to thy person, noble father-in-law!
Tell me, how fares our loving mother?

Stan. I, by attorney, bless thee from thy mother,
Who prays continually for Richmond's good:
So much for that.-The silent hours steal on,
And flaky darkness breaks within the east.
In brief, for so the season bids us be,
Prepare thy battle early in the morning;
And put thy fortune to the arbitrement
Of bloody strokes, and mortal-staring war.
I, as I may, (that which I would, I cannot,)
With best advantage will deceive the time,
And aid thee in this doubtful shock of arms:
But on thy side I may not be too forward,
Lest, being seen, thy brother tender George
Be executed in his father's sight.
Farewell: The leisure and the fearful time
Cuts off the ceremonious vows of love,
And ample interchange of sweet discourse,
Which so long sunder'd friends should dwell upon;
God give us leisure for these rites of love!
Once more, adieu:-Be valiant, and speed well!

Rich. Good lords, conduct him to his regiment: I'll strive, with troubled thoughts, to take a nap; Lest leaden slumber peise me down to-morrow, When I should mount with wings of victory: Once more, good night, kind lords and gentlemen. [Exeunt Lords, &c. with Stanley. O Thou! whose captain I account myself, Look on my forces with a gracious eye; Put in their hands thy bruising irons of wrath, That they may crush down with a heavy fall The usurping helmets of our adversaries! Make us thy ministers of chastisement, That we may praise thee in thy victory! To thee I do commend my watchful soul, Ere I let fall the windows of mine eyes; Sleeping, and waking, O, defend me still! The Ghost of Prince Edward, Son to Henry the Sixth,

rises between the two Tents.

[Sleep

Ghost. Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow! [To K. Rich

Think, how thou stabb’dst me in my prime of youth At Tewksbury; Despair therefore, and die!—

Be cheerful, Richmond; for the wronged souls Of butcher'd princes fight in thy behalf: King Henry's issue, Richmond, comforts thec. The Ghost of King Henry the Sixth rises. Ghost. When I was mortal, my anointed body [To K. Rich

By thee was punched full of deadly holes ;
Think on the Tower, and me; Despair, and die;
Harry the sixth bids thee despair and die.-

Virtuous and holy, be thou conqueror! [To Rich.
Harry, that prophesied thou should'st be king,
Doth comfort thee in thy sleep; Live, and flourish!
The Ghost of Clarence rises.
Ghost. Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow!
[To K. Rich.

I, that was wash'd to death with fulsome wine,
Poor Clarence, by thy guile betray'd to death!
To-morrow in the battle think on me,
And fall thy edgeless sword; Despair, and die!—

Thou offspring of the house of Lancaster, [To Rich.
The wronged heirs of York do pray for thee;
Good angels guard thy battle! Live, and flourish!
The Ghosts of Rivers, Grey, and Vaughan, rise.
Riv. Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow,

[To K. Rich. Rivers, that died at Pomfret! Despair, and die! Grey. Think upon Grey, and let thy soul despair! [To K. Rich. Vaugh. Think upon Vaughan ; and, with guilty fear, Let fall thy lance! Despair, and die !- [To K. Rich. All. Awake! and think, our wrongs in Richard's bosom [To Richm. Will conquer him ;-awake, and win the day!

The Ghost of Hastings rises. Ghost. Bloody and guilty, guiltily awake; [To K. Rich.

And in a bloody battle end thy days!
Think on lord Hastings; and despair, and die!—
Quiet, untroubled soul, awake, awake! [To Richm.
Arm, fight, and conquer, for fair England's sake!

The Ghosts of the two young Princes rise. Ghosts. Dream on thy cousins smother'd in the Tower;

Let us be lead within thy bosom, Richard,
And weigh thee down to ruin, shame, and death!
Thy nephews' souls bid thee despair, and die.-

Sleep, Richmond, sleep in peace, and wake in joy;
Good angels guard thee from the boar's annoy!
Live, and beget a happy race of kings!
Edward's unhappy sons do bid thee flourish.

The Ghost of Queen Anne rises.

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.

Is there a murderer here? No;-Yes; I am:
Then fly,-What, from myself? Great reason: Why?
Lest I revenge. What? Myself on myself?
I love myself. Wherefore? for any good,
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 will pity me:-
Nay, wherefore should they? since that I myself
Find in myself no pity to myself.

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.
Enter Ratcliff.

Rat. My lord,

K. Rich. Who's there?

Rat. Ratcliff, my lord, '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.
Ratcliff, I fear, I fear,
Rat. Nay, good my lord, be not afraid of shadows.
K. Rich. By the apostle Paul, shadows to-night

wife,

Ghost. The first was I, that help'd thee to the crown; [To K. Rich.

The last was I that felt thy tyranny:
O, in the battle think on Buckingham,
And die in terror of thy guiltiness!
Dream on, dream on, of bloody deeds and death;
Fainting, despair; despairing, yield thy breath !—
I died for hope, ere I could lend thee aid: [To Rich,
But cheer thy heart, and be thou not dismay'd:
God, and good angels fight on Richmond's side;

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 eaves-dropper,
To hear, if any mean to shrink from me.

[Exeunt King Richard and Rateliff. Richmond wakes. Enter Oxford and others. Lords. Good morrow, Richmond.

Rich. 'Cry mercy, lords, and watchful gentlemen, That you have ta'en a tardy sluggard here. Lords. How have you slept, my lord?

Rich. 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!

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.