Cates.
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. Alarm. Enter King Richard.

K. Rich.
A horse! a horse! my Kingdom for a horse!

Cates.
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 Dye.
—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! [Exeunt. Alarms. Enter King Richard and Richmond; they fight, Richard is slain. Retreat and Flourish. Enter Richmond, Stanley bearing the Crown, with divers other Lords.

Richm.
God and your arms be prais'd, victorious friends,
The day is ours! the bloody dog is dead.

Stanl.
Couragious Richmond, well hast thou acquit thee:
Lo, here these long-usurped royalties,
From the dead temples of this bloody wretch,
Have I pluckt off, to grace thy brows withal.

Wear it, enjoy it, ^{6 note}and make use of it.

Richm.
Great God of heaven, say, Amen, to all!
But tell me first, is young George Stanley living?

Stanl.
He is, my Lord, and safe in Lei'ster town;
Whither, if you so please, we may withdraw us.

Richm.
What men of Name are slain on either side?

Stanl.
John Duke of Norfolk, Walter the Lord Ferris,
Sir Robert Brakenbury, Sir William Brandon.

Richm.
Interr 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 and the red;
Smile heav'n upon this fair conjunction,
That long hath frown'd upon their enmity!
What traitor hears me, and says not, Amen?
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 sons, compell'd, been butchers to their sire:
* ^note

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 prosp'rous 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 encrease,
That would with treason wound this fair land's peace.
Now civil wounds are stopp'd, Peace lives agen;
That she may long live here, God say, Amen! [Exeunt.^{7 note note}