K. Rich.
Here pitch our Tents, even here in Bosworth field.
My lord of Surrey, why look you so sad?

Surr.
My heart is ten times lighter than my looks.

K. Rich.
My lord of Norfolk,—

Nor.
Here, most gracious Liege.

K. Rich.
Norfolk, we must have knocks: ha, must we not?

Nor.
We must both give and take, my gracious lord.

K. Rich.
Up with my tent, here will I lye to night;
But where to-morrow?—well, all's one for that.
Who hath descry'd the number of the traitors?

Nor.
Six, or sev'n, thousand is their utmost Power.

K. Rich.
Why, our Battalion trebles that account:
Besides, the King's name is a tower of strength,
Which they upon the adverse faction want.
Up with the tent: come, noble gentlemen,
Let us survey the vantage of the ground.
Call for some men of sound direction:

Let's want no discipline; make no delay;
For, lords, to morrow is a busie day. [Exeunt. SCENE changes to another Part of Bosworth Field. Enter Richmond, Sir William Brandon, Oxford, and Dorset.

Richm.
The weary Sun hath made a golden Set,
And, by the bright tract of his fiery car,
Gives signal of a goodly day to morrow.
Sir William Brandon, you shall 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
Desire the Earl to see me in my tent.
Yet one thing more, good Blunt, before thou goest;
Where is lord Stanley quarter'd, dost thou know?

Blunt.
Unless I have mista'en his quarters much,
(Which, well I am assur'd, I have not done)
His regiment lyes half a mile at least
South from the mighty Power of the King.

Richm.
If without peril it be possible,
Sweet Blunt, make some good means to speak with him,
And give him from me this most needful Note.

Blunt.
Upon my life, my lord, I'll undertake it.

Richm.
^{2 note}Give me some ink and paper; in my tent
I'll draw the form and model of our battle,
Limit each leader to his several charge,

And part in just proportion our small strength.
Let us consult upon to morrow's business;
In to our tent, the air is raw and cold [They withdraw into the tent. SCENE changes back to King Richard's Tent. Enter King Richard, Ratcliff, Norfolk, and Catesby.

K. Rich.
What is't o' clock?

Cates.
It's supper time, my lord;
It's nine a clock.

K. Rich.
I will not sup to night.
Give me some Ink and Paper.
What, is my beaver easier than it was?
And all my armour laid into my tent?

Cates.
It is, my Liege, and all things are in readiness.

K. Rich.
Good Norfolk, hie thee to thy charge,
Use careful watch, chuse trusty centinels.

Nor.
I go, my lord.

K. Rich.
Stir with the lark to morrow, gentle Norfolk.

Nor.
I warrant you, my lord. [Exit.

K. Rich.
Catesby,—

Cates.
My lord.

K. Rich.
Send out a pursuivant at arms
To Stanley's regiment; bid him bring his Power
Before Sun-rising, lest his son George fall
Into the blind Cave of eternal Night.
Fill me a bowl of wine—give me a watch— [To Ratcliff.
Saddle white Surrey for the field to morrow:
Look, that my staves be sound, and not too heavy.
Ratcliff,—

Rat.
My lord?

K. Rich.
Saw'st thou the melancholy lord Northumberland?

Rat.
Thomas the Earl of Surrey, and himself,
Much about cock-shut time, from troop to troop,
Went through the army, cheering up the soldiers.

K. Rich.
I am satisfy'd; give me a bowl of wine.
I have not that alacrity of spirit,
Nor cheer of mind, that I was wont to have—
There, set it down. Is ink and paper ready?

Rat.
It is, my lord.

K. Rich.
Bid my Guard watch, and leave me.
About the mid of night come to my tent,
And help to arm me. Leave me now, I say. [Exit Ratcliff.

Previous section

Next section