Glost. Oh, Catesby, I have had such horrid dreams! Catesby. Shadows, my lord!-below the soldier's

heeding.

Glost. Now, by my this day's hopes, shadows, to night,

Have struck more terror to the soul of Richard,
Than can the substance of ten thousand soldiers,
Arm'd all in proof, and led by shallow Richmond.
Catesby. Be more yourself, my lord: consider, sir,
Were it but known a dream had frighted you,
How would your animated foes presume on't!

Glost. Perish that thought!-no, never be it said
That fate itself could awe the soul of Richard!
Hence, babbling dreams! you threaten here in vain;
Conscience, avaunt! Richard's himself again!
Hark! the shrill trumpet sounds to horse! away!
My soul's in arms, and eager for the fray! (Exeunt.

SCENE VI.

A Wood.

Enter RICHMOND, OXFORD, SIR W. BRANDON, SIR R. BRACKENBURY, BLUNT, SOLDIERS, &c.

Rich. Halt!

Sold. Halt!-halt!

Rich. How farinto the morning is it, friends?
Sir R. Brack. Near four, my lord.

Rich. "Tis well

I am glad to find we are such early stirrers.

Sir W. Brand. Methinks the foes less forward than

we thought them;

Worn as we are, we brave the field before them.

Rich. Come, there looks life in such a cheerful

haste.

If dreams should animate a soul resolv'd,
I'm more than pleas'd with those I've had to-night:
Methought that all the ghosts of them, whose bodies
Richard murder'd, came mourning to my tent,
And rous'd me to revenge them.

Sir W. Brand. A good omen, sir.-[Trumpets sound a distant March.] Hark! the trumpet of

The enemy! it speaks them on the march.

Rich. Why, then, let's on, my friends, to face them;

In peace, there's nothing so becomes a man,
As mild behaviour and humility:
But, when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Let us be tigers in our fierce deportment:
For me, the ransom of my bold attempt
Shall be this body on the earth's cold face;
But, if we thrive, the glory of the action
The meanest here shall share his part of.
Advance your standards, draw your willing swords;
Sound drums, and trumpets, boldly and cheerfully.
The word's St. George, Richmond, and victory.

Enter GLOSTER, CATESBY, &c.

Glost. Who saw the sun to-day?

[Exeunt.

Catesby. He has not yet broke forth, my lord. Glost. Then he disdains to shine-for, by the

clock,

He should have brav'd the east an hour ago.
Not shine to-day! why, what is that to me,
More than to Richmond? for the self-same heav'n

That frowns on me, looks low'ring upon him.

Enter NORFOLK, with a Paper.

Nor. Prepare, my lord; the foe is in the field.

Glost. Come, bustle, bustle! caparison my horse; Call forth Lord Stanley, bid him bring his power; Myself will lead the soldiers to the plain.

[Exit CATESBY.

Well, Norfolk, what think'st thou now ?
Nor. That we shall conquer-but on my tent,

This morning early, was this paper found.
Glost. [Reads.] Jockey of Norfolk, be not too bold,
For Dickon, thy master, is bought and sold.
A weak invention of the enemy!
Come, gentlemen, now each man to his charge,
And, ere we do bestride our foaming steeds,
Remember whom you are to cope withal;
A scum of Britons, rascals, runaways!
Whom their o'ercloy'd country vomits forth
To desperate adventures and destruction.

Enter CATESBY.

What says Lord Stanley? will he bring his power ? Catesby. He does refuse, my lord-he will not stir. Glost. Off with his son George's head!

Nor. My lord, the foe's already past the marshAfter the battle, let young Stanley die. Glost. Why, after be it then. A thousand hearts are swelling in my bosom: Draw, archers, draw your arrows to the head! Spur your proud horses hard, and ride in blood! And thou, our warlike champion, thrice renown'd, St. George, inspire me with the rage of lions! Upon them!-Charge! follow me!

[Exeunt.

SOLDIERS driven across the Stage, by GLOSTER, &c.
Glost. What, ho! young Richmond, ho! 'tis
Richard calls !

I hate thee, Harry, for thy blood of Lancaster!
Now, if thou dost not hide thee from my sword,
Now, while the angry trumpet sounds alarms,
And dying groans transpierce the wounded air,