Richm.
Thus far into the bowels of the Land
Have we march'd on without Impediment.
‘Richard, the bloody and devouting Boar,
‘Whose Ravenous Appetite has spoil'd your Fields;
‘Laid this rich Country waste, and rudely crop'd
‘Its ripned hopes of fair prosperity,
Is now ev'n in the center of the Isle,
As we're inform'd, near to the Town of Leicester:
From Tamworth thither, is but one days march.
And, here receive we from our Father Stanley,
Lines of fair Comfort and Encouragement,
Such as will help and animate our cause,
On which lets Cheerly, on Couragious Friends,
To reap the harvest of a lasting Peace;
Or Fame more lasting from a well fought War.

Ox.
Your words have fire, my Lord, and warm our men,
Who look'd methought but cold before, disheartned
With the unequal numbers of the Foe.

Richm.
Why, double 'em still, our Cause wou'd Conquer 'em.
Thrice is he arm'd that has his Quarrel Just,
And he but naked, tho' lock'd up in Steel,
Whose Conscience with Injustice is Corrupted:
The very weight of Richard's guilt shall crush him.

Blunt.
His best of Friends, no doubt will soon be ours.

Ox.
He has no Friends but what are such thro' fear.

Richm.
And we no Foes but what are such to Heaven;
Then doubt not, Heaven's for us. Let's on, my Friends:

True hope ne'er tires, but mounts with Eagles wings,
Kings it makes Gods, and meaner Creatures Kings. (Exit. The Scene, Bosworth Field: Enter Richard in Arms, with Norfolk, Ratcliff, Surrey, &c.

Rich.
Here pitch our Tent, ev'n in Bosworth Field:
My good Lord of Norfolk, the cheerful speed
Of your supply, has merited my thanks.

D. Nor.
I am rewarded, Sir, in having power
To serve your Majesty.

Rich.
You have our thanks, my Lord. Up with my Tent:
Here will I lie to night—But where to morrow? Well,
No matter where—Has any careful Friend
Discover'd yet the number of the Rebels?

D. Nor.
‘My Lord, as I from certain Spies am well
‘Inform'd, six or seven thousand is their
‘Utmost Power. Rich.
Why, our Battalions treble that account;
Beside, the Kings name is a Tower of strength,
Which they upon the adverse Faction want.

D. York.
Their wants are greater yet, my Lord: Those ev'n
Of Motion, Life, and Spirit—Did you but know
How wretchedly their Men disgrace the Field.
O! such a tatter'd Host of mounted Scare-crows,
‘So poor, so famish'd; their Executors,
‘The greedy Crows, fly hovering o'er their heads,
Impatient for their lean Inheritance.

Rich.
‘Now, by St. Paul, we'll send 'em Dinners and Apparel;
‘Nay, give their fasting Horses Provender,
‘And after fight 'em. How long must we stay,
My Lords, before these desp'rate Fools will give
Us time to lay 'em with their Faces upwards?

D. Nor.
Unless their Famine saves our Swords that labour,
To morrows Sun will light 'em to their ruin,
So soon, I hear, they mean to give us Battle.

Rich.
The sooner still the better.—Come, my Lords,
Now let's survey, the 'vantage of the Ground:
Call me some men of sound direction. Lead.

D. Nor.
My Gracious Lord.—

Rich.
What say'st thou, Norfolk?

D. Nor.
Might I advise your Majesty, you yet
Shall save the blood that may be shed to morrow.

Rich.
How so' my Lord?

Nor.
The poor Condition of the Rebels tells me,
That on a Pardon offer'd to the lives
Of those who instantly shall quit their Arms,
Young Richmond, e'er to morrows dawn, were Friendless.

Rich.
Why, that indeed was our Sixth Harry's way,
Which made his Reign one Scene of rude Commotion.
I'll be in mens despite a Monarch: No,
Let Kings that Fear, Forgive; Blows and Revenge for me. [Exeunt. Enter Richmond, Oxford, Blunt, Sir William Brandon, &c. Richm.
The weary Sun has made a Golden set,
And by yon ruddy brightness of the Clouds,
Gives token of a goodly Day to morrow;
Sir William Brandon, you shall bear my Standard.
,Here have I drawn the model of our Battle,
'Which parts in just proportion our small Power.
Here may each Leader know his several Charge:
My Lord of Oxford, you Sir Walter Herbert,
And Sir William Brandon, stay with me:
The Earl of Pembroke keeps his Regiment. Enter a Soldier.

Sold.
Sir, a Gentleman that calls himself Stanley,
Desires admittance to the Earl of Richmond.

Richm.
Now by our hopes, my Noble Father-in-Law,
Addmit him—My good Friends, your leave a while. [They retire. Enter Lord Stanley in a Cloak.
My Honour'd Father! On my Soul
The joy of seeing you this night is more,
Than my 'most knowing hopes presag'd—What News?

Ld. Stan.
I, by Commission bless thee from thy Mother,
Who prays continually for Richmond's good:
‘The Queen too, has with tears of joy consented,
‘Thou should'st espouse Elizabeth her Daughter,
At whom the Tyrant Richard closely aims:
‘In brief (for now the shortest moment of
‘My stay is bought with hazard of my Life)
Prepare thy Battle early in the morning,
(For so the season of Affairs requires)

‘And this be sure of, I, upon the first
Occasion offer'd, will deceive some Eyes,
And aid thee in this doubtful shock of Arms;
‘In which I had more forward been e'er this,
‘But that the Life of thy young Brother George
(Whom for my pawn of Faith stern Richard keeps)
‘Wou'd then be forfeit to his wild Revenge.
Farewel: The rude enforcement of the time
‘Denies me to revive those Vows of Love—
Which so long sunder'd Friends shou'd dwell upon.

Richm.
We may meet again, my Lord—

Ld. Stan.
Till then, once more farewel: Be resolute, and Conquer.

Richm.
Give him safe Conduct to his Regiment. [Exit Ld. Stan.
Well, Sirs, to morrow proves a busie day:
But come, the night's far spent—Let's in to Counsel.
Captain, an hour before the Sun gets up
Let me be wak'd; I will in Person walk
From Tent to Tent, and early chear the Soldiers. (Exeunt.

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