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Who prays continually for Richmond's good:
The queen too, has, with tears of joy, consented,
Thou shouldst 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, ere this,
But, that the life of thy young brother, George,
(Whom, for my pawn of faith, stern Richard keeps)
Would then be forfeit to his wild revenge.
Farewell ! the rude enforcement of the time,
Denies me to renew those vows of love,
Which so long-sunder'd friends should dwell upon.
Rich. We may meet again, my
lordStanley. Till then, once more, farewell! be resolute, and conquer.
Rich. Give him safe conduct to his regiment.-
Well, sirs, to-morrow proves a busy day;
But come, the night's far spent-let's in, to coun-
Captain, an hour before the sun gets up,
Let me be wak’d; I will, in person, walk
From tent to tent, and early cheer the soldiers.
Enter GLOSTER, RATCLIFF, NORFOLK,
Catesby. Here, my lord.
Glost. Send out a pursuivant at arms
To Stanley's regiment --bid him, 'fore sun-rise,
Meet me with his power, or young George's head
Shall pay the forfeit of his cold delay.
What, is my beaver easier than it
was, And all my armour laid into my tent?
Catesby. It is, my liege, all in readiness.
Glost. Good Norfolk, hie thee to thy charge!
Use careful watch-chuse trusty centinels.
Nor. Doubt not, my lord.
Glost. Be stirring with the lark, good Norfolk !
Nor. I shall, my lord.
[Exit. Glost. Saddle White Surry for the field, to-morIs ink and paper ready?
Catesby. It is, my lord.
Glost. An hour after midnight, come to my tent, And help to arm me.—A good night, my friends.
[Erit. Catesby. Methinks, the king has not that pleas'd
alacrity, Nor cheer of mind, that he was wont to have.
Ratcliff. The mere effect of business; You'll find him, sir, another man, i'th' field. ,
shall see him with his beaver up,
Ready to mount his neighing steed, with whom
He smiling seems to have some wanton talk,
Clapping his pamper'd sides to hold him still;
Then, with a motion swift and light as air,
Like fiery Mars, he vaults him to the saddle;
Looks terror to the foe, and courage to his soldiers.
Catesby. Good night to Richmond, then; for, as I
His numbers are so few, and those so sick,
And famish'd in their march, if he dares fight us-
He jumps into the sea to cool his fever.
But come, 'tis late-Now let us to our tents;
We've few hours good, before the trumpet wakes us.
Gloster's Tent, in another Part of the Field.
Enter Gloster, from his Tent.
Glost. 'Tis now the dead of night, and half the
Is in a lonely solemn darkness hung;
Yet I, (so coy a dame is sleep to me)
With all the weary courtship of
My care tir'd thoughts, can't win her to my bed;
Though ev'n the stars do wink, as 'twere with over-
I'll forth, and walk a whilethe air's refreshing,
And the ripe harvest of the new-mown hay
Gives it a sweet and wholesome odour.
How awful is this gloom !-and, hark! from camp to
The hum of either army stilly sounds,
That the fix'd centinels almost receive
The secret whispers of each other's watch;
Steed threatens steed, in high and boastful neighings,
Piercing the night's dull ear-Hark! from the tents
The armourers accomplishing the knights,
With clink of hammer, closing rivets up,
Give dreadful note of preparation; while some,
Like sacrifices, by their fires of watch,
With patience sit, and inly ruminate
The morning's danger-By yon heav'n, my stern
Impatience chides this tardy-gaited night,
Who, like a foul and ugly witch, does limp
So tediously away—I'll to my couch,
And once more try to sleep her into morning.
[Lies down ; a Groan is heard. Ha! what means that dismal voice? sure 'tis The echo of some yawning grave, That teems with an untimely ghost—'tis gone ! 'Twas but my fancy, or perhaps the wind, Forcing his entrance through some bollow cavern. No matter what I feel my eyes grow heavy. [Sleeps.
King HENRY's Ghost rises.
K. Hen. Oh! thou, whose unrelenting thoughts,
The hideous terrors of thy.guilt can shake,
Whose conscience with thy body ever sleeps,
Sleep on; while I, by Heav'n's high ordinance,
In dreams of horror wake thy frightful soul:
Now give thy thoughts to me; let them behold
These gaping wounds, which thy death-dealing hand,
Within the Tower, gave my anointed body:
Now shall thy own devouring conscience gnaw
Thy heart, and terribly revenge my murder.
LADY ANNE's Ghost rises.
Lady A. Think on the wrongs of wretched Anne,