They would restrain the one, disdain 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
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 instantly with his son George's head. Nor. My lord, the enemy is pass'd the marsh; After the battle let George Stanley 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.

[Exeunt.

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 thee!

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 first, is young George Stanley living? Stan. He is, my lord, and safe in Leicester town, Whither, if it please you, we may now withdraw us. Richm. What men of name are slain on either side? Stan. John duke of Norfolk, Walter lord Ferrers, Sir Robert Brackenbury, 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,

bosom:

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:

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. —

O, now, let Richmond and Elizabeth,
The true succeeders of each royal house,
By heaven'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!
Abate 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.

[Exeunt.

1 come no more to make you laugh; things now,
That bear a weighty and a serious brow,
Sad, high, and working, full of state and woe,
Such noble scenes as draw the eye to flow,
We now present. Those that can pity, here
May, if they think it well, let fall a tear;
The subject will deserve it. Such as give
Their money out of hope they may believe,
May here find truth too. Those, that come to see
Only a show or two, and so agree,

The play may pass; if they be still and willing,
I'll undertake, may see away their shilling

Richly in two short hours. Only they,
That come to hear a merry, wanton play,
A noise of targets; or to see a fellow
In a long motley coat, guarded with yellow,

1 Laced.

Will be deceiv'd; for, gentle hearers, know,
To rank our chosen truth with such a show
As fool and fight is, beside forfeiting
Our own brains, and the opinion that we bring,
(To make that only true we now intend,)
Will leave us never an understanding friend.
Therefore, for goodness' sake, and as you are known
The first and happiest hearers of the town,
Be sad, as we would make ye: Think, ye see
The very persons of our noble story,

As they were living; think you see them great,
And follow'd with the general throng, and sweat,
Of thousand friends: then, in a moment, see

How soon this mightiness meets misery!
And, if you can be merry then, I'll say,
A man may weep upon his wedding day.
2 Pretend.

Then you lost

The view of earthly glory: Men might say,
Till this time, pomp was single; but now married
To one above itself. Each following day
Became the next day's master, till the last
Made former wonders it's: To-day, the French,
All clinquant 2, all in gold, like heathen gods,
Shone down the English: and, to-morrow, they
Made Britain, India: every man that stood,
Show'd like a mine. Their dwarfish pages were
As cherubin, all gilt: the madams too,
Not us'd to toil, did almost sweat to bear
The pride upon them, that their very labour
Was to them as a painting: now this mask
Was cry'd incomparable; and the ensuing night
Made it a fool, and beggar. The two kings,
Equal in lustre, were now best, now worst,
As presence did present them; him in eye,
Still him in praise: and, being present both,
'Twas said, they saw but one; and no discerner
Durst wag his tongue in censure. When these suns
(For so they phrase them,) by their heralds chal-
leng'd

The noble spirits to arms, they did perform
Beyond thought's compass; that former fabulous

Nor. One, certes' that promises no element In such a business.

Buck. I pray you, who, my lord? Nor. All this was order'd by the good discretion Of the right reverend cardinal of York.

Buck. The devil speed him! no man's pie is free'd From his ambitious finger. What had he To do in these fierce vanities? I wonder, That such a keech 7 can with his very bulk Take up the rays o'the beneficial sun, And keep it from the earth.

Nor.
Surely, sir,
There's in him stuff that puts him to these ends:
For, being not propp'd by ancestry, (whose grace
Chalks successors their way,) nor call'd upon
For high feats done to the crown; neither allied
To eminent assistants, but, spider-like,
Out of his self-drawing web, he gives us note,
The force of his own merit makes his way;
A gift that heaven gives for him, which buys
A place next to the king.
Aber.
I cannot tell
What heaven hath given him, let some graver eye
Pierce into that; but I can see his pride
Peep through each part of him: Whence has be
that?

If not from hell, the devil is a niggard;
Or has given all before, and he begins
A new hell in himself.

Buck.

Why the devil,
Upon this French going-out, took he upon him,
Without the privity o' the king, to appoint
Who should attend on him? He makes up the file
Of all the gentry; for the most part such
Too, whom as great a charge as little honour
He meant to lay upon and his own letter 8,
The honourable board of council out,
Must fetch him in the papers.

Aber.
I do know
Kinsmen of mine, three at the least, that have
By this so sicken'd their estates, that never
They shall abound as formerly.