K. Rich.
Here pitch our tent, even here in Bosworth field.—
My lord of Surrey, why look you so sad^{9 note}?

Sur.
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 loving lord.

K. Rich.
Up with my tent! here will I lie to-night; [Soldiers begin to set up the King's Tent.

But where to-morrow?—Well, all's one for that.—
Who hath descried the number of the traitors^{1 note}?

Nor.
Six or seven thousand is their utmost power.

K. Rich.
Why, our battalia 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 lack no discipline^{2 note}, make no delay,
For, lords, to-morrow is a busy day. [Exeunt. Enter, on the other side of the Field, Richmond, Sir William Brandon, Oxford, and other Officers. Some of the Soldiers pitch Richmond's Tent.

Richm.
The weary sun hath made a golden set,
And by the bright track of his fiery car,
Gives token of a goodly day to-morrow.—
Sir William Brandon, you shall bear my standard.—
Give me some ink and paper in my tent^{3 note}:
I'll draw the form and model of our battle,
Limit each leader to his several charge,
And part in just proportion our small power.
My lord of Oxford,—you, sir William Brandon,—
And you, sir Walter Herbert, stay with me^{4 note}.
The earl of Pembroke keeps 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 captain, do for me;
Where is lord Stanley quarter'd, do you know?

Blunt.
Unless I have mista'en his colours much,
(Which, well I am assur'd, I have not done)
His regiment lies 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^{5 note},
And give him from me this most needful note.

Blunt.
Upon my life, my lord, I'll undertake it: 11Q0789
And so, God give you quiet rest to-night^{6 note}!

Richm.
Good night, good captain Blunt. Come, gentlemen,
Let us consult upon to-morrow's business!
In to my tent, the dew is raw and cold^{7 note}. [They withdraw into the Tent. Enter, to his Tent, King Richard, Norfolk, Ratcliff, and Catesby.

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

Cate.
It's supper time, my lord; it's nine o'clock^{8 note}.

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?

Cate.
It is, my liege; and all things are in readiness.

K. Rich.
Good Norfolk, hie thee to thy charge.
Use careful watch; choose trusty sentinels.

Nor.
I go, my lord.

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

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

K. Rich.
Ratcliff^{9 note}!

Rat.
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^{10 note}:
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 Northumland?

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.
So: I am satisfied. Give me a bowl of wine:
I have not that alacrity of spirit,
Nor cheer of mind, that I was wont to have.—
Set it down.—Is ink and paper ready?

Rat.
It is, my lord.

K. Rich.
Bid my guard watch. Leave me.
Ratcliff, about the mid of night, come to my tent
And help to arm me.—Leave me, I say. [King Richard retires into his Tent. Exeunt Ratcliff and Catesby.

Richmond's Tent opens, and discovers him and his Officers, &c. Enter Stanley.

Stan.
Fortune and victory sit on thy helm!

Richm.
All comfort that the dark night can afford,
Be to thy person, noble father-in-law!
Tell me, how fares our loving mother^{1 note}?

Stan.
I, by attorney, bless thee from thy mother,
Who prays continually for Richmond's good:
So much for that.—The silent hours steal on,
And flaky darkness breaks within the east.
In brief, for so the season bids us be,
Prepare thy battle early in the morning;
And put thy fortune to the arbitrement
Of bloody strokes, and mortal-staring war.
I, as I may, (that which I would I cannot)
With best advantage will deceive the time,
And aid thee in this doubtful shock of arms:
But on thy side I may not be too forward,
Lest, being seen, thy brother, tender George,
Be executed in his father's sight.
Farewell. The leisure and the fearful time
Cuts off the ceremonious vows of love,
And ample interchange of sweet discourse,
Which so long sunder'd friends should dwell upon.
God give us leisure for these rites of love!
Once more, adieu.—Be valiant, and speed well!

Richm.
Good lords, conduct him to his regiment.
I'll strive, with troubled thoughts, to take a nap^{2 note};
Lest leaden slumber peise me down to-morrow,

When I should mount with wings of victory.
Once more, good night, kind lords, and gentlemen. [Exeunt Lords, &c. with Stanley.
O! Thou, whose captain I account myself,
Look on my forces with a gracious eye;
Put in their hands thy bruising irons of wrath,
That they may crush down with a heavy fall
Th' usurping helmets of our adversaries!
Make us thy ministers of chastisement,
That we may praise thee in thy victory!
To thee I do commend my watchful soul,
Ere I let fall the windows of mine eyes:
Sleeping, and waking, O! defend me still! [Sleeps. The Ghost of Prince Edward, Son to Henry the Sixth, rises between the two Tents^{3 note}.

Ghost.
Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow! [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 King Richard.
By thee was punched full of deadly holes 11Q0790^{4 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 prophesy'd thou should'st be king,
Doth comfort thee in sleep^{5 note}: live, and flourish. The Ghost of Clarence rises.

Ghost.
Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow! [To King Richard.
I, that was wash'd to death with fulsome wine,
Poor Clarence, by thy guile betray'd to death!
To-morrow in the battle think on me,
And fall thy edgeless sword. 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^{6 note}. [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^{7 note}.

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

And in a bloody battle end thy days.
Think on lord Hastings. Despair, and die^{8 note}.—
  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^{9 note},
And weigh thee down to ruin, shame, and death.
Thy nephews' souls bid thee despair, and die.—
  Sleep, Richmond, sleep in peace, and wake in joy;
Good angels guard thee from the boar's annoy!
Live, and beget a happy race of kings.
Edward's unhappy sons do bid thee flourish. The Ghost of Queen Anne rises.

Ghost.
Richard, thy wife, that wretched Anne thy wife,
That never slept a quiet hour with thee,
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 ere I could lend thee aid: [To Richmond.
But cheer thy heart, and be thou not dismay'd:
God, and good angels fight on Richmond's side;
And Richard fall in height of all his pride. [The Ghosts vanish. King Richard starts out of his dream.

K. Rich.
Give me another horse!—bind up my wounds!—
Have mercy, Jesu!—Soft! I did but dream.—
O, coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me!—
The lights burn blue.—It is now dead midnight 11Q0791^{1 note}.
Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh.
What do I fear? myself? there's none else by:
Richard loves Richard; that is, I am I^{2 note}.
Is there a murderer here? No;—yes; I am:
Then fly,—What, from myself? Great reason: why?
Lest I revenge. What! Myself upon myself?
Alack! I love myself. 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^{3 note}, in the high'st degree; 11Q0792
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 shall 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
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^{4 note}?

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

K. Rich.
O Ratcliff! I have dream'd a fearful dream.—
What thinkest thou? will our friends prove all true?

Rat.
No doubt, my lord^{5 note}.

K. Rich.
O 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. Enter Oxford and Others.

Lords.
Good morrow, Richmond.

Richm.
Cry mercy, lords, [Waking.] 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^{6 note}
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.— [He advances to the Troops^{7 note}.
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 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, where he is falsely set;
One that hath ever been God's enemy.
Then, if you fight against God's enemy,
God will, in justice, ward you as his soldiers:
If you do sweat to put a tyrant down^{8 note},
You sleep in peace, the tyrant being slain;
If you do fight against your country's foes,
Your country's fat shall pay your pains the hire;
If you do fight in safeguard of your wives,
Your wives shall welcome home the conquerors;
If you do free your children from the sword,
Your children's children quit it in your age^{9 note}.
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
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! Richmond, and victory! [Exeunt. 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 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 11Q0793^{1 note},
Consisting equally of horse and foot:
Our archers shall be placed in the midst.
John duke of Norfolk, Thomas earl of Surrey,
Shall have the leading of the foot and horse.
They thus directed, we will follow
In the main battle; whose puissance on either side
Shall be well winged with our chiefest horse.

This, and Saint George to boot!—What think'st thou, Norfolk?

Nor.
A good direction, warlike sovereign.—
This found I on my tent this morning. [Giving a Scroll.

K. Rich.
“Jocky of Norfolk, be not too bold^{2 note}, [Reads.
For Dickon thy master is bought and sold.”
A thing devised by the enemy.—
Go, gentlemen; every man to his charge.
Let not our babbling dreams affright our souls;
For conscience is a word^{3 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.—
What shall I say more than I have inferr'd^{4 note}?
Remember whom you are to cope withal;—
A sort of vagabonds, rascals, and run-aways,
A scum of Bretagnes, and base lackey peasants,
Whom their o'er-cloyed country vomits forth
To desperate adventures 11Q0794 and assur'd destruction.
You sleeping safe, they bring you to unrest;
You having lands, and bless'd with beauteous wives,
They would restrain the one, distain the other.
And who doth lead them, but a paltry fellow,
Long kept in Bretagne at our mother's cost;
A milk-sop, one that never in his life
Felt so much cold as over shoes in snow?
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^{5 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!— Enter a Messenger.
What says lord Stanley? will he bring his power?

Mess.
My lord, he doth deny to come.

K. Rich.
Off with his son George's head.

Nor.
My lord, the enemy is pass'd the marsh:
After the battle let George Stanley die.

K. Rich.
A thousand hearts are great within my bosom.
Advance our standards! set upon our foes!
Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint George,
Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons!
Upon them! Victory sits on our helms^{6 note}. [Exeunt.

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