Enter the Ghoft of Anne, his wife.
Ghoft. Richard, thy wife, that wretched Anne thy
That never flept a quiet hour with thee,
Now fills thy fleep with perturbations:
To morrow in the battle think on me,
And fall thy edgelefs fword: despair and die.
Thou, quiet foul, fleep thou a quiet fleep: [To Richm
Dream of fuccefs and happy victory,
Thy adverfary's wife doth pray for thee.
Enter the Ghost of Buckingham.
Ghoft. The first was I, that help'd thee to the Crown:
The laft was I, that felt thy tyranny.
O, in the battle think on Buckingham,
And die in terror of thy guiltinefs.
Dream on, dream on, of bloody deeds and death :
Fainting, defpair; defpairing, yield thy breath.
I dy'd for Holpe, ere I could lend thee aid; (14)
[To Richm
But cheer thy heart, and be thou not difmay'd:
God and good angels fight on Richmond's fide,
And Richard fall in height of all his pride.
[The Ghofts vanish. [K. Richard farts out of his dream. bind up my
K. Rich. Give me another horfe
Have mercy, Jefufoft, I did but dream.
O coward Confcience! how doft thou afflict me?
The lights burn blue- -is it not dead midnight?
Cold fearful drops ftand on my trembling flesh.
(14) I dy'd for Hope, ere I could lend thee Aid,] All the Editions concur in this Reading, to the abfolute Detriment of the Senfe. I reftore, with the addition of a fingle Letter;
I dy'd for Holpe, ere I could lend thee Aid;
i. e. I perish'd for that Help, which I had intended and was preparing to lend Thee; tho' I could not effentially give Thee any Affiftance.
What? do I fear myself? there's none else by;
Richard loves Richard; that is, I am I.
Is there a murth'rer here? no; yes, I am.
Then fly-what, from myfelf? great reafon; why?
Left I revenge. What? myfelf on myself?
I love myself. Wherefore? for any good,
That I myself have done unto myself?
O, no. Alas, I rather hate myself,
For hateful deeds committed by my Self.
I am a villain; yet I lie, I am not.
Fool, of thyfelf speak well Fool, do not flatter.
My confcience hath a thousand fev'ral tongues,
And ev'ry tongue brings in a fev'ral Tale,
And ev'ry Tale condemns me for a villain,
Perjury, perjury in high'ft degree,
Murther, ftern murther in the dir'ft degree.
All feveral fins, all us'd in each degree,
Throng to the bar, all crying, guilty, guilty!
I fhall defpair: there is no creature loves me :
And if I die, no soul shall pity me.
Nay, wherefore should they? fince that I myself
Find in myself no pity to myself.
Methought, the fouls of all that I had murther'd
Came to my tent, and every one did threat
To morrow's vengeance on the head of Richard.
Rat. Ratcliff, my lord. The early village-cock
Hath twice done falutation to the morn;
Your friends are up, and buckle on their armour.
K. Rich. Ratcliff, I fear, I fear-
Rat. Nay, good my lord, be not afraid of fhadows.
K. Rich. By the Apostle Paul, fhadows to night
Have ftruck more terror to the soul of Richard,
Than can the substance of ten thousand foldiers
Armed in proof, and led by fhallow Richmond.
It is not yet near day. Come, go with me;
Under our tents, I'll play the eaves-dropper;
To hear, if any mean to fhrink from me.
[Exeunt K. Richard and Ratcliff.
Enter the Lords to Richmond, fitting in his Tent.
Lords. Good morrow, Richmond.
Rich. 'Cry mercy, lords and watchful gentlemen,
That you have ta'en a tardy fluggard here.
Lords. How have you flept, my lord?
Richm. The fweetest fleep and faireft-boding dreams,
That ever enter'd in a drowfie head,
Have I fince your departure had, my lords.
Methought, their fouls, whose bodies Richard murthér'd,
Came to my tent, and cried on Victory.
I promise you, my heart is very jocund,
In the remembrance of fo fair a dream.
How far into the morning, is it, lords?
Lords. Upon the stroke of four.
Richm. Why, then 'tis time to arm and give direction.
More than I have faid, loving Countrymen,
The leifure and enforcement of the time
Forbids to dwell on; yet remember this,
God and our good Caufe fight upon our fide,
The Pray'rs of holy Saints, and wronged fouls,
Like high-rear'd bulwarks, stand before our faces.
Richard except, thofe, whom we fight against,
Had rather have us win, than him they follow.
For what is he, they follow? truly, gentlemen,
A bloocdy tyrant, and a homicide:
One rais'd in blood, and one in blood establish'd;
One, that made means to come by what he hath,
And flaughter'd those that were the means to help him.
A bafe foul ftone, 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 juftice ward you as his foldiers.
If you do fweat to put a Tyrant down,
You fleep in peace, the tyrant being flain:
If you do fight against your country's foes,
Your Country's Fat fhall pay your pains the Hire.
If you do fight. in fafeguard of your wives,
Your wives thall welcome home the conquerors.
If you do free your children from the fword,
Your childrens' children quit it in your age.
Then, in the name of God, and all these rights,
Advance your ftandards; draw your willing fwords.
For me, the ransom of my bold attempt
Shall be this cold corps on the earth's cold face:
But if I thrive, the gain of my attempt
The leaft of you fhall fhare his part thereof.
Sound drums and trumpets, boldly, cheerfully;
God, and Saint George! Richmond, and Victory!
Enter King Richard, Ratcliff and Catesby.
K. Rich. What faid Northumberland, as touching
Rat. That he was never trained up in arms.
K. Rich. He faid the truth; and what faid Surrey then?
Rat. He fmil'd and faid, the better for our purpose. K. Rich. He was i'th' right, and fo, indeed, it is. Tell the clock there-give me a Kalendar. [Clock ftrikes. Who faw the Sun to day?
K. Rich. Then he disdains to shine; for, by the book, He should have brav'd the East an hour agoA black day it will be to fome body, Ratcliff
K. Rich. The Sun will not be feen to day;
The sky doth frown and lowre upon our army-
I would these dewy tears were from the ground-
Not shine to day? why, what is that to me
More than to Richmond? for the self-fame heav'n,
That frowns on me, looks fadly upon him.
Nor. Arm, arm, my lord, the foe vaunts in the field. K. Rich. Come, buftle, buftle-caparifon my horfe.. Call up lord Stanley, bid him bring his Power;
I will lead forth my foldiers to the plain,
And thus my battle fhall be ordered.
My Forward fhall be drawn out all in length,
Confifting equally of horfe and foot:
Our archers fhall be placed in the midft:
John Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Earl of Surrey,
Shall have the leading of the foot and horse.
They thus directed, we ourself will follow
In the main battle, which on either fide
Shall be well winged with our chiefeft horse:
This and St. George to boot!·
Nor. A good direction, warlike Sovereign. This paper found I on my tent this morning.
[Giving a fcrowl. Jocky of Norfolk, be not fo bold,
For Dickon thy mafter is bought and fold.
K. Rich. A thing devifed by the enemy.
Go, gentlemen; go, each man to his Charge.
Let not our babling dreams affright our fouls;
-Confcience is but a word that cowards ufe,
Devis'd at firft to keep the ftrong in awe :
Our strong arms be our confcience, fwords our law.
March on, join bravely, let us to't pell-mell,
If not to heav'n, then hand in hand to hell.
What fhall I fay more than I have inferr'd?
Remember, whom you are to cope withal;
A fort of vagabonds, of rafcals, run-aways,
A fcum of Britons, and bafe lackey pealants,
Whom their o'er-cloyed Country vomits forth
To defperate adventures and destruction.
You fleeping fafe, they bring you to unreft:
You having lands, and bleft with beauteous wives,
They would reftrain the one, diftain the other.
And who doth lead them but a paltry fellow, (15)
Long kept in Bretagne at his mother's cost?
(15) And who doth lead them but a paltry fellow,
Long kept in Britaine at our Mother's Coft?] This is fpoken by Richard, of Henry Earl of Richmond: but they were far from having any common Mother, but England: and the Earl of
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