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One that made means to come by what he hath,
And slaughter'd those that were the means to help
A base foul stone, made precious by the foil
Of England's chair, where he is falsely set;
One that hath ever been God's enemy:
Then if you fight against God's enemy,
God will, in justice, ward you as his soldiers;
If you do sweat to put a tyrant down,
You sleep in peace, the tyrant being slain;
If you do fight against your country's foes,
Your country's fat shall pay your pains the hire;
If you do fight in safeguard of your wives,
Your wives shall welcome home the conquerors;
If you do free your children from the sword,
Your children's children quit it in your age
Then, in the name of God, and all these rights,
Advance your standards, draw your willing swords.
For me, the ransom of my bold attempt
Shall be this cold corpse on the earth's cold face;
But if I thrive, the gain of my attempt
The least of you shall share his part thereof.
Sound, drums and trumpets, boldly and cheerfully;
God, and Saint George! Richmond and victory!
Re-enter KING RICHARD, RATCLIFF, Attendants,
K. Rich. What said Northumberland, as touch-
Rat. That he was never trained up in arms.
K. Rich. He said the truth: And what said Surrey
Rat. He smil'd and said, the better for our purpose.
K. Rich. He was i' the right; and so, indeed, it is.
Tell the clock there. Give me a calendar.
Who saw the sun to-day?
Nor. A good direction, warlike sovereign.
This found I on my tent this morning.
[Giving a scrowl. K. Rich. Jocky of Norfolk, be not too bold, [Reads. For Dickon thy master is bought and sold.
A thing devised by the enemy.
Go, gentlemen, every man unto his charge:
Let not our babbling dreams afright our souls;
Conscience is but a word that cowards use,
Devis'd at first to keep the strong in awe;
Our strong arms be our conscience, swords our law.
March on, join bravely, let us to't pell-mell;
If not to heaven, then hand in hand to hell.
What shall I say more than I have infer'd?
Remember whom you are to cope withal;
A sort of vagabonds, rascals, and run-aways,
A scum of Bretagnes, and base lackey peasants,
Whom their o'er-cloy'd country vomits forth
To desperate ventures and assur'd destruction.
You sleeping safe, they bring you to unrest;
You having lands, and bless'd with beauteous wives,
They would restrain the one, distain 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!
K. Rich. Then he disdains to shine; for, by the Draw, archers, draw your arrows to the head!
Nor. Arm, arm, my lord; the foe vaunts in the field.
K. Rich. Come, bustle, bustle; - Caparison my
Call up lord Stanley, bid him bring his power:
I will lead forth my soldiers to the plain,
And thus my battle shall be ordered.
My forward shall be drawn out all in length,
Consisting equally of horse and foot;
Our archers shall be placed in the midst :
John duke of Norfolk, Thomas Earl of Surrey,
Shall have the leading of this foot and horse.
They thus directed, we ourself will follow
In the main battle; whose puissance on either side
Shall be well winged with our chiefest horse.
This, and Saint George to boot! What think'st
thou, Norfolk ?
Spur your proud horses hard, and ride in blood;
Amaze the welkin with your broken staves!
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.
K. Rich. A thousand hearts are great within my
Advance our standards, set upon our foes;
Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint George,
Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons !
Upon them! Victory sits on our helms.
SCENE IV. Another Part of the Field. Alarum: Excursions. Enter NORFOLK, and Forces ; to him CATESBY.
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 : 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 : 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!
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 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 with the red: -
Smile heaven upon this fair conjunction,
That long hath frown'd upon their enmity!
What traitor hears me, and says not,
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 God'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
SCENE,-chiefly in LONDON and WESTMINSTER; once at KIMBOLTON.
I 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.
That come to hear a merry, bawdy play,
A noise of targets; or to see a fellow
In a long motley coat, guarded with yellow,
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 you: 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.
I was my chamber's prisoner.
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, 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 cherubins, 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 challeng'd
The noble spirits to arms, they did perform
Beyond thought's compass; that former fabulous
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, can with his very bulk Take up the rays o' the beneficial sun, And keep it from the earth.
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.
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 he that? If not from hell, the devil is a niggard; Or has given all before, and he begins A new hell in himself.
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, The honourable board of council out, Must fetch him in he 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. Buck. O, many Have broke their backs with laying manors on them For this great journey. What did this vanity, But minister communication of
Buck. After the hideous storm that follow'd, was A thing inspir'd; and, not consulting, broke Into a general prophecy, - That this tempest, Dashing the garment of this peace, aboded The sudden breach on't.
Which is budded out; For France hath flaw'd the league, and hath attach'd Our merchants' goods at Bourdeaux.
The ambassador is silenc'd?
Aber. A proper title of a peace; and purchas'd At a superfluous rate!
Why, all this business Our reverend cardinal carried. Nor.
The state takes notice of the private difference
Betwixt you and the cardinal. I advise you,
(And take it from a heart that wishes towards you
Honour and plenteous safety,) that you read
The cardinal's malice and his potency
Together to consider further, that
What his high hatred would effect, wants not
A minister in his power: You know his nature,
That he's revengeful; and I know, his sword
Hath a sharp edge: it's long, and, it may be said,
It reaches far; and where 'twill not extend,
Thither he darts it. Bosom up my counsel,
You'll find it wholesome. Lo, where comes that
That I advise your shunning.
Enter CARDINAL WOLSEY, (the purse borne before him,) certain of the Guard, and Two Secretaries with papers. The CARDINAL in his passage fixeth
his eye on BUCKINGHAM, and BUCKINGHAM on him, both full of disdain.
Wol. The duke of Buckingham's surveyor? ha? Where's his examination?
Wol. Is he in person ready? 1 Secr.
Ay, please your grace. Wol. Well, we shall then know more; and Buckingham
Shall lessen this big look.
[Exeunt WOLSEY, and Train. Buck. This butcher's cur is venom-mouth'd, and I Have not the power to muzzle him; therefore, best Not wake him in his slumber. A beggar's book
Out-worths a noble's blood.
Nor. What, are you chaf'd? Ask God for temperance; that's the appliance only, Which your disease requires.
I read in his looks
Matter against me; and his eye revil'd
Me, as his abject object: at this instant
He bores me with some trick: He's gone to the king;
I'll follow, and out-stare him.
Stay, my lord,
And let your reason with your choler question
What 'tis you go about: To climb steep hills,
Requires slow pace at first: Anger is like
A full-hot horse; who being allow'd his way,
Self-mettle tires him. Not a man in England
Can advise me like you be to yourself
As you would to your friend.
And from a mouth of honour quite cry down This Ipswich fellow's insolence; or proclaim, There's difference in no persons.
Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot
That it do singe yourself: We may outrun,
By violent swiftness, that which we run at,
And lose by over-running. Know you not,
The fire, that mounts the liquor till it run o'er,
In seeming to augment it, wastes it? Be advis'd:
I say again, there is no English soul
More stronger to direct you than yourself;
If with the sap of reason you would quench,
Or but allay, the fire of passion.
Buck. To the king I'll say't; and make my vouch as strong
As shore of rock. Attend. This holy fox,
Or wolf, or both, (for he is equal ravenous
As he is subtle; and as prone to mischief,
As able to perform it: his mind and place
Infecting one another, yea, reciprocally,)
Only to show his pomp as well in France
As here at home, suggests the king our master
To this last costly treaty, the interview,
That swallow'd so much treasure, and like a glass
Did break i' the rinsing.
'Faith, and so it did. Buck. Pray, give me favour, sir. This cunning cardinal
The articles o'the combination drew,
As himself pleas'd; and they were ratified,
As he cried, Thus let be: to as much end,
As give a crutch to the dead: But our count-car-
Has done this, and 'tis well; for worthy Wolsey,
Who cannot err, he did it. Now this follows,
(Which, as I take it, is a kind of puppy
To the old dam, treason,) — Charles the emperor,
Under pretence to see the queen his aunt,
(For 'twas, indeed, his colour; but he came
To whisper Wolsey,) here makes visitation :
His fears were, that the interview, betwixt
England and France, might, through their amity,
Breed him some prejudice; for from this league
Peep'd harms that menac'd him: He privily
Deals with our cardinal; and, as I trow,
Which I do well; for, I am sure, the emperor
Paid ere he promis'd; whereby his suit was granted
Ere it was ask'd; —but when the way was made,
And pav'd with gold, the emperor thus desir'd ;-
That he would please to alter the king's course,
And break the foresaid peace. Let the king know,
(As soon he shall by me,) that thus the cardinal
Does buy and sell his honour as he pleases,
And for his own advantage.
To see you ta'en from liberty, to look on
The business present: 'Tis his highness' pleasure,
You shall to the Tower.
It will help me nothing, To plead mine innocence; for that die is on me, Which makes my whitest part black. The will of