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 inore competitors1

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.
I cry thee 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, 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.

Cale. My liege, the duke of Buckingham is taken,

(1) More competitors, i. e. more opponents.

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.

SCENE V.—A Room in Lord Stanley's House.

[Exeunt,

Enter 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 holds off my present aid.
So, get thee gone; commend me to thy lord.
Withal, say, that the queen hath heartily consented
He shall espouse Elizabeth her daughter.
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 name and worth:
And towards London do they bend their power,
If by the way they be not fought withal.

Stan. Well, hie thee to thy lord; I kiss his hand.
My letter will resolve him of my mind.
Farewell.

[Exeunt.

ACT V.

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, Grey, and Rivers,

(1) Sir Christopher Urswick. The title Sir does not here imply that the bearer was a knight: it was one assumed by graduates, (Christopher Urswick was a bachelor in divinity, and chaplain to the countess of Richmond,) and perhaps by all priests.

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, fellow, is it not?

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,

I wish'd might fall on me, when I was found
False to his children, and his wife's allies:
This is the day whereon 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.1
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, lead me, officers, to the block of shame ;

Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of blame.

[Exeunt BUCKINGHAM, &c.

SCENE II.-Plain near Tamworth.

Enter, with drum and colours, RICHMOND, OXFORD, SIR JAMES BLUNT, SIR WALTER HERBERT, and others, with Forces, marching.

Richm. 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 Stanley1

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,

(1) My wrongs. Wrongs is here used for wrongs done, injurious practices. (2) Our father Stanley, Lord Stanley had married the dowager countess of Richmond, mother of Richmond, who therefore calls him father.

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 men,

To fight against this bloody homicide.

Herb. I doubt not but his friends will turn to us.

Blunt. He hath no friends but what are friends for fear;

Which, in his dearest need, will fly from him.

Richm. 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.

SCENE III.-Bosworth Field.

[Exeunt.

Enter KING RICHARD and Forces; the Duke of Norfolk, EARL OF SURREY, and others.

K. Rich. Here pitch our tent, even here in Bosworth 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. K. Rich. Why our battalia trebles that account; Besides, the king's name is a tower of strength,1 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 :2 Let's lack no discipline, make no delay; For, lords, to-morrow is a busy day.

[Exeunt.

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,

(1) The king's name is a tower of strength. This is taken from the Proverbs of Solomon, xviii. 10. "The name of the Lord is a strong tower."

(2) Of sound direction, i. e. of known skill.

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 of 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.
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;
And so, God give you quiet rest to-night!
Rich. Good night, good captain Blunt.
Let us consult upon to-morrow's business;
In to my tent, the dew is raw and cold.

Come, gentlemen,

[They withdraw into the tent.

Enter, to his tent, KING RICHARD, NORFOLK, RATCLIFF, and

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

Cate.

It's nine o'clock.

K. Rich.

CATESBY.

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.

Nor. I go, my lord.

K. Rich. Stir with the lark to-morrow, gentle Norfolk.
Nor. I warrant you, my lord.

K. Rich. Ratcliff!

Rat. My lord?

K. Rich.

Send out a pursuivant at arms

To Stanley's regiment: bid him bring his power

[Exit.