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,
The wrong'd heirs of York do pray for thee;
Good angels guard thy battle! Live, and flourish!

[To RICHMOND.

The GHOSTS of RIVERS, GREY, and VAUGHAN, rise. Riv. Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow

[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.

Ghost. Bloody and guilty, guiltily awake, [To KING RICHARD. And in a bloody battle end thy days!

Think on lord Hastings; and despair, and die !—
Quiet untroubled soul, awake, awake!

Arm, fight, and conquer, for fair England's sake!

[To RICHMOND.

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,

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;

Dream of success and happy victory;

Thy adversary's wife doth pray for thee.

* Let fall.

[TO RICHMOND.

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:
But cheer thy heart, and be thou not dismay'd:
God, and good angels, fight on Richmond's side:
And Richard falls in height of all his pride.

[TO RICHMOND.

[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.
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.

Is there a murderer here? No;-Yes; I am:
Then fly,-What, from myself? Great reason: Why?
Lest I revenge. What? Myself on myself?

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, in the high'st degree,
Murder, stern murder, in the dir'st degree;
All several sins, all used 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 will 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.

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,

*Hoping well to vou.

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.

K. Rich. 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.

RICHMOND wakes. Enter OXFORD and others.

Lords. Good morrow, Richmond.

Richm. 'Cry mercy, lords, 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
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.

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 raised 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, wardt you as his soldiers;
If you do sweat to put a tyrant down,
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 will welcome home the conquerors;
If you do free your children from the sword,
Your children's children quit* it in your age.
Then in the name of God, and all these rights,
Advance your standards, draw your willing swords;
For me, the ransomt 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 smiled and said, the better for our purpose.

K. Rich. He was i'the right; and so, indeed, it is.

Tell the clock there.-Give me a calendar.-
Who saw the sun to-day?

Rat. Not I, my lord.

[Clock strikes.

K. Rich. Then he disdains to shine; for, by the book, He should have braved 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,
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 this foot and horse.
They thus directed, we ourself will follow
In the main battle; whose puissance on either side

* Requite.

+ Fine.

Made it splendid.

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.

K. Rich. Jocky of Norfolk, be not too bold,
For Dickon thy master is bought and sold.
A thing devised by the enemy.

[Giving a scroll. [Reads.

Go, gentlemen, every man unto his charge:
Let not our babbling dreams affright our souls,
Conscience is but a word that cowards use,
Devised 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,
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 ventures and assured destruction,
You sleeping safe, they bring you to unrest;
You having lands, and blessed 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!
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 instantly with his son George's head!
Nor. My lord, the enemy is pass'd the marsh;
After the battle let George Stanley die.