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I will lead forth my Soldiers to the Plain,
And thus my Battel shall be ordered.
My Foreward Mhall be drawn in length,
Consisting equally of Horse and Foot:
Our Archers shall be paced in the midit;
Form Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Earl of Sarrey,
Shall have the leading of the Foot and Horle.
They thus directed, we will follow
In the main Battel, whose puissance on either lide
Shall be well winged with our chiefest Horse:
This, and St. George to boot.
What think'st thou, Norfolk
Nor. A good Dire&ion, warlike Sovereign.
I on my tent this Morning. (Giving a Scrawl.
Jocky of Norfolk, be not so bold.
For Dickon thy Master is bougbt and fold.
K. Rich, Athing devised by the Enemy.
Go Gentlemen, every Man to his Charge,
Let not our babling Dreams affright our Souls;
For Conscience is a Word that Cowards use,
Devis'd at first to keep the strong in awe,
Our strong Arms be our Conscience, Swords our Lawi
March on, join bravely, let us to't pell mell,
If not to Heav'o, then hand in hand to Hell.
What shall I say more than I have inferrd?
Remember whom you are to cope witbal,
A sort of Vagabonds, Rascals, Run-aways,
A scum of Britains, and base Lackey-Peasants,
Whom their o'er-cloyed Country vomits forth
To desperate Adventures, and affur'd Destruction,
You sleeping safe; they bring you to unrest :
You having Lands; and bleit with beauteous Wives,
They would restrain the one, distain the other.
And who doth lead them, but a paltry Fellow?
Long kept in Britain at our Mother's Cost,
A Milk-lop, one that never in his Life
Felt so much Cold, as over Shooes in Show:
Let's whip these Stragglers o'er the Seas again,
Lath hence these over-weening Rags of France;
These familh'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 those Bastard-Britains, 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? lye with our Wives?
Ravish our Daughters?
[Drum afar of
Hark, I hear their Drum,
Right Gentlemen of England, fight boldly, 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?
Mes. 'My Lord, he doth deny to come.
K. Rich. Off with his Son George's Head.
Nor. My Lord, the Enemy is past the Marsh;
After the Battel let George Stanley dye.
K. Rich. A thousand Hearts are great within my Bosom.
Advance our Standard', set upon our Foes,
Our ancient word of Courage, fair S. George,
Inspire us with the spleen of fiery Dragons :
Upon them, Vi&ory fits on our Helms. [Exeunt.
Alarum. Excursions. Enter Catesby.
Cares. Rescue, my Lord of Norfolk,
The King ena&s more Wonders than a Man,
Daring an opposite to every Danger:
Hs Horse is Nain, and all on foot he fights,
Seeking for Richmond in the throat of Death:
Rescue, fair Lord, or else the Day is lost.
Alarums. Enter King Richard.
K. Rich. A Horse, a Hoife, my Kingdom for a Horse.
Cates. Withdraw, my Lord, I'll help you to a Horse.
K. Rich, Slave, I have see my Life upon a cast,
And I will stand the hazard of the Dic:
I think there be fix Richmonds in the Field,
Five have I Nain to Day, instead of him.
A Huisc, a Horfe, my Kingdom for a Horse.
Alarum. Enter King Richard and Richmond, they fight,
Richard is pain. Retreat, and Flourish.' Enter Richmond, Derby bearing
the Crown, with divers other Lords. Richm. God and your Arms be prais’d, Vi&orious Friends; The Day is ours, the bloody Dog is dead
Derby. Couragious Richmond, well halt thou acquit thee: Lo, here these long usurped Royalties, From the dead Temples of this bloody Wretch, Have I pluckt off, to grace thy Brows withal. Wear it, and make use of it.
Richm. Great God of Heaven, fay Amen to all. But tell me, is young George Stanley living?
Derby. He is, my Lord, and safe in Leicester Town; Whicher, if you please, we may withdraw us.
Richm. What Men of Note are flain op either Side?
Derby. John Duke of Norfolk, Walter Lord Ferris,
Sir Robert Brakenbury, 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,
We will unite the White Rose, and the Red.
Smile Heav'n upon this fair Conjun&tion,
That long hath frown'd upon their Enmity:
What Traitor hears me, and says not Amen?
England hath long been mad, and scar'd her self;
The Brother blindly shed the Brother's Blood;
The Father rafhly slaughter'd his own Son;
The Sons, compell’d, been Butchers to the Sire:
All this divided Tork and Lancaster,
Divided in their dire Division.
O now let Richmond and Elizabeth,
The true Succeeders of each Royal House,
By God's fair Ordinance, conjoin together :
And let thy Heirs, God, if ilicit Will be so,
Enrich the time to come, with smooth-facd Peace,
With smiling Plenty, and fair prosperous Day».
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 encrease,
That would with Treason wound this fair Land's Peace.
Now Civil Wounds are stoppid, Peace lives again;
That she may long live here, God say, Amen. [Exeunt