Sir Edmond Courtney, and the haughty Prelate,
Bishop of Exeter, his elder brother,

With many more confed'rates, are in arms.
Enter another Messenger.

Mef. In Kent, my Liege, the Guilfords are in arms, And ev'ry hour more competitors

Flock to the rebels, and their power grows ftrong.

Enter another Messenger.

Mef. My Lord, the army of the Duke of BuckinghamK. Rich. Out on ye, owls! nothing but fongs of death? [He ftrikes him. There, take thou that, till thou bring better news. Mef. The news I have to tell your Majefty, Is, that by fudden floods and falls of waters, Buckingham's army is difpers'd and scatter'd ; And he himself wander'd away alone, No man knows whither.

K. Rich. Oh! I cry thee mercy;

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

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

Mef. Sir Thomas Lovel, and Lord Marquifs Dorjet, 'Tis faid, my Liege, in Yorkshire are in arms; But this good comfort bring I to your Highness, The Bretagne navy is difpers'd, by tempest. Richmond in Dorfetfhire fent out a boat Unto the fhore, to ask those on the banks, If they were his affiftants, yea, or no; Who anfwer'd him, they came from Buckingham

Unto 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 arms;

If not to fight with foreign enemies,

Yet to beat down thefe rebels here at home.

Enter

Enter Catesby.

Catef. My Liege, the Duke of Buckingham is taken, That is the best news; that the Earl of Richmond Is with a mighty pow'r landed at Milford,

Is colder news, but yet it must be told.

K. Rich. Away tow'rds Salisbury'; while we reafon here, A royal battle might be won and loft;

Some one take order, Buckingham be brought
To Salisbury; the reft march on with me.

[Exeunt.

SCENE changes to the Lord Stanley's Houfe.

Enter Lord Stanley, and Sir Christopher Urswick. Stan. IR Chriftopher, tell Richmond this from me; (23) That in the fty of this moft bloody Boar, My fon George Stanley is frankt up in hold: If I revolt, off goes young George's head; The fear of that holds off my present aid. So, get thee gone; commend me to thy Lord. Say too, the Queen hath heartily confented He fhould efpoufe Elizabeth her daughter. But tell me, where is princely Richmond now? Chri. At Pembroke, or at Hertford-weft in Wales. Stan. What men of name refort to him? Chri. 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 other of great name and worth:

(23) Sir Chriftopher, tell Richmond this from me;] The perfon, who is call'd Sir Chriftopher here, and who has been ftyl'd fo in the Dramatis Perfona of all the impreffions, I find by the chronicles to have been Chriftopher Urfwick, a batchelor in divinity, and chaplain to the Countess of Richmond, who had intermarried with the Lord Stanley. This Prieft, the history tells us, frequently went backwards and forwards, unfufpected, on meffages betwixt the Countess of Richmond and her husband, and the young Earl of Richmond, whilst he was preparing to make his descent on England.

And

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.

ACT V.

SCENE, Salisbury.

Enter the Sheriff, and Buckingham, with halberds, led

W

to Execution.

BUCKINGHA M.

ILL not King Richard let me speak with him? Sher. No, good my Lord, therefore be patient. Buck. Haftings,and Edward's children, Gray and Rivers, Holy King Henry, and thy fair fon Edward,

Vaughan, and all that have miscarried

By under-hand, corrupted, foul injustice!
If that your moody, difcontented fouls,

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

This is All-fouls 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 wifht might fall on me, when I was found
Falfe to his children, or his wife's allies.
This is the day, wherein I wifht to fall
By the falfe faith of him whom most I trusted:
This, this All-fouls day to my fearful foul
Is the determin'd refpite of my wrongs.
That high All-feer, which I dallied with,
Hath turn'd my feigned prayer on my head,
And giv'n in earneft, what I begg'd in jeft.
Thus doth he force the fwords of wicked men

Το

To turn their own points on their masters' bosoms.
Thus Margret's curfe falls heavy on my head:`
When he, quoth fhe, fhall fplit thy heart with forrow,
Remember, Margret was a Prophetefs.

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

SCENE, on the borders of Leicester-Shire. A Camp.

Enter Richmond, Oxford, Blunt, Herbert, and others, with Drum and Colours.

Richm.

FE

Ellows in arms, and my moft loving friends,
Bruis'd underneath the yoke of tyranny,

Thus far into the bowels of the land

Have we 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 spoil'd your fummer-fields, and fruitful vines)
Swills your warm blood like wafh, and makes his trough
In your embowell'd bofoms; 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.
In God's name cheerly on, courageous friends,
To reap the harvest of perpetualpeace,
By this one bloody trial of fharp war.

Oxf. Ev'ry 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 fear, Which in his deareft need will fly from him.

Rich. All for our vantage: then, in God's name, march; True hope is fwift, and flies with fwallow's wings; Kings it makes Gods, and meaner creatures Kings.

[Exeunt.

SCENE changes to Bofworth Field.

Enter King Richard in arms, with Norfolk, Surrey, Ratcliff, Catefby, and others.

K. Rich.

H'

ERE pitch our tents, even here in Bosworth field.

My Lord of Surrey, why look you so fad ?

Surr. My heart is ten times lighter than my looks. K. Rich. My Lord of Norfolk,

Nor. Here, moft gracious Liege.

K. Rich. Norfolk, we must have knocks: ha, muft we not? Nor. We muft 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 utmost power. K. Rich. Why, our battalion trebles that account. Befides, the King's name is a tower of ftrength, 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.

Richm. And, by the bright tract of his fiery car,

HE weary fun hath made a golden fet,

Gives fignal of a goodly day to-morrow.

Sir William Brandon, you fhall bear my standard:
The Earl of Pembroke keep his regiment;

Good captain Blunt, bear my good night to him;
And by the second hour in the morning
Defire the Earl to see me in my tent.

Yet