Ghost.
Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow^{8 note}
! [To King Richard.

Think, how thou stab'dst me in my prime of youth
At Tewksbury; Despair therefore, and die!—

  Be cheerful, Richmond; for the wronged souls
Of butcher'd princes fight in thy behalf:
King Henry's issue, Richmond, comforts thee. The Ghost of King Henry the Sixth rises.

Ghost.
When I was mortal, my anointed body [To Ring Richard.
By thee was punched full of deadly holes^{9 note}
:
Think on the Tower, and me; Despair, and die;
Harry the sixth bids thee despair and die.—
  Virtuous and holy, be thou conqueror! [To Richmond.
Harry that prophecy'd thou should'st be king^{1 note}

Ghost.
Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow! [To King Richard.
I, that was wash'd to death with fulsome wine^{3 note}

Poor Clarence, by thy guile betray'd to death!
To-morrow in the battle think on me,
And fall thy edgeless sword^{4 note}

; Despair, and die!—
  Thou offspring of the house of Lancaster, [To Richmond.
The wronged heirs of York do pray for thee;
Good angels guard thy battle! Live and flourish! The Ghosts of Rivers, Grey, and Vaughan, rise.

Riv.
Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow, [To King Richard.
Rivers, that died at Pomfret! Despair, and die!

Grey.
Think upon Grey, and let thy soul despair! [To King Richard.

Vaugh.
Think upon Vaughan; and, with guilty fear,
Let fall thy lance! Despair, and die!— [To King Richard.

All.
Awake! and think, our wrongs in Richard's bosom [To Richmond.
Will conquer him;—awake, and win the day! The Ghost of Hastings rises.

Ghost.
Bloody and guilty, guiltily awake; [To King Richard.

And in a bloody battle end thy days!
Think on Lord Hastings: and despair, and die!—
  Quiet untroubled soul, awake, awake! [To Richmond.
Arm, fight, and conquer, for fair England's sake! The Ghosts of the Two young Princes rise.

Ghosts.
Dream on thy cousins smother'd in the Tower;
Let us be lead within thy bosom, Richard^{5 note}

Ghost.
Richard, thy wife, that wretched Anne thy wife,
That never slept a quiet hour with thee^{6 note}

Now fills thy sleep with perturbations:
To-morrow in the battle think on me,
And fall thy edgeless sword; Despair, and die!—
  Thou, quiet soul, sleep thou a quiet sleep; [To Richmond.
Dream of success and happy victory;
Thy adversary's wife doth pray for thee. The Ghost of Buckingham rises.

Ghost.
The first was I, that help'd thee to the crown; [To King Richard.
The last was I that felt thy tyranny:
O, in the battle think on Buckingham,
And die in terror of thy guiltiness!
Dream on, dream on, of bloody deeds and death;
Fainting, despair: despairing, yield thy breath!—
  I died for hope^{7 note}

But cheer thy heart, and be thou not dismay'd:
God, and good angels fight on Richmond's side;
And Richard falls in height of all his pride. [The Ghosts vanish. King Richard starts out of his dream.

K. Rich.
Give me another horse^{8 note},—bind up my wounds,—
Have mercy, Jesu!—Soft; I did but dream.—
O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me!—

The lights burn blue^{9 note}

.—It is now dead midnight^{1 note}

Is there a murderer here? No;—Yes; I am:
Then fly,—What, from myself? Great reason: Why?
Lest I revenge. What? Myself on myself?
Alack! I love myself^{3 note}. Wherefore? for any good,
That I myself have done unto myself?
O, no: alas, I rather hate myself,
For hateful deeds committed by myself.
I am a villain: Yet I lie, I am not.
Fool, of thyself speak well:—Fool, do not flatter.
My conscience hath a thousand several tongues,
And every tongue brings in a several tale,
And every tale condemns me for a villain.
Perjury, perjury, in the high'st degree;
Murder, stern murder, in the dir'st degree;
All several sins, all us'd in each degree,
Throng to the bar, crying all,—Guilty! guilty!
I shall despair.—There is no creature loves me;
And, if I die, no soul will pity me:—
Nay, wherefore should they? since that I myself
Find in myself no pity to myself.
Methought, the souls of all that I had murder'd^{4 note}

Came to my tent: and every one did threat
To-morrow's vengeance on the head of Richard. Enter Ratcliff.

Rat.
My lord,—

K. Rich.
Who's there?

Rat.
Ratcliff, my lord; 'tis I^{5 note}
. The early village cock
Hath twice done salutation to the morn;
Your friends are up, and buckle on their armour.

K. Rich.
O Ratcliff^{6 note}, I have dream'd a fearful dream!—

What thinkest thou? will our friends prove all true?

Rat.
No doubt, my lord.

K. Rich.
Ratcliff, I fear, I fear,—

Rat.
Nay, good my lord, be not afraid of shadows.

K. Rich.
By the apostle Paul, shadows to-night
Have struck more terror to the soul of Richard,
Than can the substance of ten thousand soldiers,
Armed in proof, and led by shallow 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 shrink from me. [Exeunt King Richard and Ratcliff. Richmond wakes. Enter Oxford and Others.

Lords.
Good morrow, Richmond.

Richm.
'Cry mercy, lords, and watchful gentlemen,
That you have ta'en a tardy sluggard here.

Lords.
How have you slept, my lord?

Richm.
The sweetest sleep, and fairest-boding dreams,
That ever enter'd in a drowsy head,
Have I since your departure had, my lords.
Methought, their souls, whose bodies Richard murder'd,
Came to my tent, and cried—On! victory!
I promise you, my heart is very jocund
In the remembrance of so 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 &lblank;. [He advances to the Troops.
More than I have said, loving countrymen,
The leisure and enforcement of the time

Forbids to dwell on: Yet remember this,—
God, and our good cause, fight upon our side;
The prayers of holy saints, and wronged souls,
Like high-rear'd bulwarks, stand before our faces;
Richard except, those, whom we fight against,
Had rather have us win, than him they follow.
For what is he they follow? truly, gentlemen,
A bloody tyrant, and a homicide;
One rais'd in blood, and one in blood establish'd;
One that made means^{7 note} to come by what he hath,
And slaughter'd those that were the means to help him;
A base foul stone, made precious by the foil
Of England's chair^{8 note}

If you do free your children from the sword,
Your children's children quit^{9 note}

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^{1 note}
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^{2 note}

Re-enter King Richard, Ratcliff, Attendants, and Forces.

K. Rich.
What said Northumberland, as touching Richmond?

Rat.
That he was never trained up in arms.

K. Rich.
He said the truth: And what said Surrey then?

Rat.
He smil'd and said, the better for our purpose.

K. Rich.
He was i' the right; and so, indeed, it is. [Clock strikes.
Tell the clock there.—Give me a calendar.—
Who saw the sun to-day?

Rat.
Not I, my lord.

K. Rich.
Then he disdains to shine; for, by the book,
He should have brav'd the east^{3 note} an hour ago:
A black day will it be to somebody.—
Ratcliff,—

Rat.
My lord?

K. Rich.
The sun will not be seen to-day;
The sky doth frown and lour 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-same heaven,

That frowns on me, looks sadly upon him. Enter Norfolk.

Nor.
Arm, arm, my lord; the foe vaunts in the field.

K. Rich.
Come, bustle, bustle;—Caparison my horse;—
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 foreward shall be drawn out all in length^{4 note}

Nor.
A good direction, warlike sovereign.—
This found I on my tent this morning^{7 note}
. [Giving a Scrowl.

K. Rich.
Jocky of Norfolk, be not too bold^{8 note}, [Reads.
For Dickon thy master^{9 note}

A thing devised by the enemy,—
Go, gentlemen, every man unto his charge:
Let not our babbling dreams^{1 note} affright our souls;
Conscience is but a word^{2 note} 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^{3 note}

You having lands, and bless'd with beauteous wives,
They would restrain the one^{7 note}, distain the other.
And who doth lead them, but a paltry fellow,
Long kept in Bretagne at our mother's cost^{8 note}

A milk-sop^{9 note}

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^{1 note}!

Draw, archers, draw your arrows to the head!
Spur your proud horses hard, and ride in blood;
Amaze the welkin with your broken staves^{9 note}

Mess.
My, lord, he doth deny to come.

K. Rich.
Off with his son George's head^{1 note}.

Nor.
My lord, the enemy is pass'd the marsh^{2 note};
After the battle let George Stanley die.

K. Rich.
A thousand hearts are great within my bosom:
Advance our standards^{3 note}

Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint George,
Inspire us with the spleen of firy dragons!
Upon them! Victory sits on our helms. [Exeunt.

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