K. Rich. Unlefs for that he comes to be your Liege, You cannot guess wherefore the Welchman 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 are thy tenants, and thy followers?

Are they not now upon the western shore,
Safe-conducting the rebels from their fhips?

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 weft ?
Stan. They have not been commanded, mighty King:
Please it your Majefty to give me leave,

I'll mufter up my friends, and meet your Grace,
Where, and what time your Majefty thall please.

K. Rich. Ay, thou would'st fain be gone to join with But I'll not trust thee. [Richmond;

Stan. Mighty Sovereign,

You have no cause to hold my friendship doubtful.
I never was, nor never will be falfe.

K. Rich. Go then, and muster men ; but leave behind
Your fon George Stanley: look your heart be firm,
Or elfe his head's affurance is but frail.

Stan. So deal with him as I prove true to you!

Enter a Meffenger.

[Exit Stanley.

Me. My gracious Sov'reign, now in Devonshire, As I by friends am well advertised,

Sir Edmund Courtney, and the haughty prelate,
Bishop of Exeter, his elder brother,

With many more confederates, are in arms.

Enter another Messenger.

Mef. In Kent, my Liege, the Guilfords are in arms,

And every hour ftill more competitors

Flock to the rebels, and their power grows ftrong.

Enter another Messenger.

Me. My Lord, the army of the Duke of Bucking

ham

K. Rich. Out on ye, owls! nothing but fongs of death? [He frikes him. There take thou that, till thou bring better news. Mel. The news I have to tell your Majesty, Is, that, by fudden floods and fall of waters, Buckingham's army is difpers'd and fcatter'd And he himself wander'd away alone,

No man knows whither.

K. Rich. Oh! I cry thee mercy!

There's my

purfe, to cure that blow of thine. Hath any well-advised friend proclaim'd Reward to him that brings the traitor in?

Me. Such proclamation hath been made, my Liege. Enter another Messenger.

Me. Sir Thomas Lovel, and Lord. Marquis Dorset,
'Tis faid, my Liege, in Yorshire are in arms;
But this good comfort bring I to your Highness,
The Bretagne navy is difpers'd by tempelt,
Richmond in Dorfetfhire fent out a boat
Unto the fhore, to afk thofe on the banks,
If they were his affiftants, yea or no?

Who answer'd him, they came from Buckingham
Upon his party; he miftrufting them,

Hois'd fail, and made his courfe again for Bretagne.

K. Rich. March on, march on, fince we are up in

If not to fight with foreign enemies,

Yet to beat down these rebels here at home.

Enter Catesby.

[arms;

Catef. 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 it must be told.

K. Rich. Away tow'rds Salisbury; while we reafon

A royal battle might be won and loft.
Some one take order Buckingham be brought
To Salisbury; the reft march on with me.

i. e. birds of ill omen.

[here,

[Exeunt

SCENE VII.

Changes to the Lord Stanley's house.

Enter Lord Stanley, and Sir Chriftopher Urfwick.

Stan. Sir Chriftopher, tell Richmond this from me, That in the fly of this moft bloody boar, My fon George Stanley is frank'd up in hold: If I revolt, cff goes young George's head; The fear of that holds off my prefent aid. So, get thee gone, commend me to thy Lord. Say too, the Queen hath heartily confented He should efpoufe Elifabeth her daughter. But tell me, where is princely Richmond now? Chr. At Pembroke, or at Hav'rford weft in Wales. Stan. What men of name refort to him? Chr Sir Walter Herbert, a renowned foldier, Sir Gilbert Talbot, and Sir William Stanley, Oxford, redoubted Pembroke, Sir James Blunt, And Rice ap Thomas, with a valiant crew, And many others 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 kifs his hand; My letter will resolve him of my mind. Farewel!

[Exeunt.

A C T V.

SCENE

I.

Salisbury.

.

Enter the Sheriff, and Buckingham, with halberts, led

to execution.

Buck. W

Ill not King Richard let me fpeak with him?

Sher. No, good my Lord, therefore be patient.

Buck. Haftings, and Edward's children, Gray and Holy King Henry, and thy fair fon Edward, [Rivers,

Vaughan, and all that have miscarried

By underhand, corrupted, foul injuftice;

If that your moody, difcontented fouls

Do through the clouds behold this prefent hour,
Ev'n for
revenge mock my destruction!

This is AH-fouts day, fellows, is it not?
Sher. It is, my Lord.

Buck. Why, then All-fouls day is my body's doomsday. This is the day which, in King Edward's time,

I wifh'd might fall on me, when I was found
Falfe to his children, or his wife's allies.
This is the day wherein I wifh'd to fall
By the falfe faith of him whom most I trusted:
This, this All-fouls day to my fearful soul,
Is the determin'd refpect * of my wrongs.
That high All-feer, which I dallied with,
Hath turn'd my feigned prayer on my head,
And giv'n in earnest what I begg'd in jeft.
Thus doth he force the fwords of wicked men
To turn their own points on their masters' bofoms.
Thus Margret's curfe falls heavy on my head:
When he, quoth fhe, shall split thy heart with forrow,
Remember Marg'ret was a prophetess.

Come, Sirs, convey me to the block of fhame;
Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of blame.
[Exeunt Buckingham, Sheriff, and Officers.

SCENE II.

On the borders of Leicestershire. A camp. Enter Richmond, Oxford, Blunt, Herbert, and others, with drum and colours.

Rich. Fellows in arms, and my moft loving friends, Bruis'd underneath the yoke of tyranny, Thus far into the bowels of the land Have me march'd on without impediment; And here receive we from our father Stanley Lines of fair comfort and encouragement. The wretched, bloody, and ufurping boar That fpoil'd your fummer-fields, and fruitful vines, Swill'd your warm blood like wash, and made his trough In your embowell'd bofons; this foul fwine

Lies now e'en in the centre of this ifle,

Near to the town of Leicester, as we learn:
From Tamworth thither is but one day's march.

• i. c.
e.requital.

Y 2

In God's name, chearly on, courageous friends,
To reap the harvest of perpetual peace,
By this one bloody trial of fharp war.

Oxf. Every man's confcience is a thousand swords, To fight against that bloody homicide.

Herb. I doubt not but his friends will fly to us. Blunt. He hath no friends, but who are friends for Which in his deareft need will fly from him. [fear, Rich. All for our 'vantage; then, in God's name, march.

True hope is fwift, and flies with fwallows' wings;
Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings.

[Exeunt. SCENE HI. Changes to Bofworth field. Enter King Richard in arms, with Norfolk, Surrey, Ratcliff, Catesby, and others.

K. Rich. Here pitch our tents, even here in Bosworth. My Lord of Surrey, why look you fo fad? [field. Sur. My heart is ten times lighter than my looks. K. Rich. My Lord of Norfolk, Nor. Here, moft gracious Liege.

[we not?

K. Rich. Norfolk, we must have knocks: ha, must Nor. We must both give and take, my gracious Lord. K. Rich. Up with my tent, here will I lie to-night; But where to-morrow?--well, all's one for that. Who hath defcry'd the number, of the traitors?

Nor. Six or fev'n thousand is their utmoft power. K. Rich. Why, our battalion trebles that account: Befides, the King's name is a tower of strength, Which they upon the adverse faction want. Up with the tent: come, Noble Gentlemen, Let us furvey the 'vantage of the ground. Call for fome men of found direction; Let's want no difcipline, make no delay; For, Lords, to-morrow is a bufy day.

[Exeunt.

SCENE changes to another part of Bofworth field.

Enter Richmond, Sir William Brandon, Oxford, and Dorfet.

Rich. The weary fun hath made a golden fet,