I have consider'd, sir, of your important wishes,
And, could I but believe you real-

Glost. Now, by the sacred host of saints aboveQueen. Oh, do rot swear, my lord, I ask no oath, Unless my daughter like you more than I.

Glost. Oh, my kind mother! (I must call you so) Be thou to her, my love's soft orator;

Plead what I will be, not what I have been;
Not my deserts, but what I will deserve.

And, when this warlike arm, shall have chastis'd
The audacious rebel, hot-brain'd Buckingham;
Bound with triumphant garlands, will I come,
And lead your daughter, to a conqueror's bed.
Queen. My lord, farewell-in some few days, ex-
pect

To hear, how fair a progress I have made:
Till when, be happy, as you're penitent.

Glost. My heart goes with you to my love.-Fare[Exit QUEEN.

well! Relenting, shallow-thoughted women!

Enter RATCLIFF.

How now the news?

Ratcliff. Most gracious sovereign, on the western

coasts,

Rides a most powerful navy, and our fears
Inform us, Richmond is their admiral.
There do they hull, expecting but the aid
Of Buckingham, to welcome them ashore.

[Exit.

Glost. We must prevent him, then-Come hither, Catesby.

Catesby. My lord, your pleasure?

Glost. Post to the Duke of Norfolk, instantly,Bid him, straight levy all the strength and power That he can make, and meet me, suddenly,

At Salisbury.-Commend me to his grace-away! [Exit CATESBY.

Enter LORD STANLEY.

Well, my lord, what news have you gather'd?
Stanley. Richmond is on the seas, my lord.

Glost. There let him sink, and be the seas on him,
White-liver'd renegade !—what does he there?
Stanley. I know not, mighty sovereign, but by

guess.

Glost. Well, as you guess?

Stanley. Stirr'd up by Dorset, Buckingham, and
Morton,

He makes for England here, to claim the crown.
Glost. Traitor! the crown?

Where is thy power then, to beat him back?
Where be thy tenants, and thy followers?

The foe upon the coast, and thou no friends to meet them?

Or, hast thou march'd them to the western shore,

To give the rebels conduct from their ships?

Stanley. My lord, my friends are ready all i' th'
North.

Glost. The North! why, what do they i' th' North, When they should serve their sovereign in the West? Stanley. They, yet, have had no orders, sir, to

move:

If 'tis your royal pleasure they should march,
I'll lead them on, with utmost haste to join you,
Where, and what time, your majesty shall please.
Glost. What! wouldst begone to join with Rich-
mond?

Stanley. Sir, you have no cause to doubt my loy-
alty;

I ne'er yet was, nor ever will be, false.

Glost. Away then to thy friends, and lead them on To meet me- -hold-come back-I will not trust thee.

I've thought a way to make thee sure-your son,
George Stanley, sir, I'll have him left behind;

And look, your heart be firm,

Or else, his head's assurance is but frail.

Stanley. As I prove true, my lord, so deal with

him.

Enter RATCLIFF.

[Exit.

Ratcliff. My lord, the army of great Buckingham, By sudden floods, and fall of waters,

Is half lost, and scatter'd :
And he himself wander'd
No man knows whither.

away, alone,

Glost. Has any careful officer proclaim'd Reward to him that brings the traitor in?

Ratcliff. Such proclamation has been made, my lord.

Enter CATESBY.

Catesby. My liege, the Duke of Buckingham is taken.

Glost. Off with his head!-so much for Buckingham.

Catesby. My lord, I am sorry I must tell more

news.

Glost. Out with it!

Catesby. The Earl of Richmond, with a mighty

power,

Is landed, sir, at Milford;

And, to confirm the news, Lord Marquis Dorset,
And Sir Thomas Lovewel, are up in Yorkshire.
Glost. Why, ay, this looks rebellion-Ho! my
horse!

By Heav'n, the news alarms my stirring soul!
Come forth, my honest sword, which, here, I vow,
By my soul's hope, shall ne'er again be sheath'd!-
Ne'er shall these watching eyes have needful rest,
Till death has clos'd 'em in a glorious grave,
Or fortune given me measure of revenge.

[Exit.

ACT THE FIFTH.

SCENE I.

The Country.

Enter RICHMOND, SIR W. BRANDON, SIR R.
BRACKENBURY, OXFORD, BLUNT, and Others.

Rich. Thus far, into the bowels of the land,
Have we march'd on, without impediment.
Gloster, the bloody, and devouring boar,
Whose ravenous appetite has spoil'd your fields,
Laid this rich country waste, and rudely cropp'd
Its ripen'd hope of fair posterity,

Is now even in the centre of the isle,

As we're inform'd, near to the town of Leicester:
From Tamworth, thither, is but one day's march;
And here, receive we, from our father, Stanley,
Lines of fair comfort and encouragement,
Such, as will help to animate our cause;
On which, let's cheerly on, couragious friends,
To the harvest of a lasting peace,

reap

Or fame, more lasting, from a well-fought war.

Sir W. Brand. Your words have fire, my lord, and

warm our men,

Who look'd, methought, but cold, before-dishearten'd,

With the unequal numbers of the foe.

Rich. Why, double them, still our cause would conquer them.

Thrice is he arm'd, that has his quarrel just;

And he, but naked, though lock'd up in steel,
Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted:
The very weight of Gloster's guilt shall crush him.
Sir R. Brack. His best friends, no doubt, will soon
be ours.

Sir W. Brand. He has no friends, but what are such, through fear.

Rich. And we, no foes, but what are such to Heav'n.

Then, doubt not, Heav'n'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.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Bosworth Field.

Enter GLOSTER, NORFOLK, RATCLIFF, &c.

Glost. Here pitch our tent, even in Bosworth Field:

My good Lord of Norfolk, the cheerful speed

Of your supply, hast merited my thanks.

Nor. I am rewarded, sir, in having power

To serve your majesty.

Glost. You have our thanks, my lord: up with my tent!

Here I will lie, to-night-but where to-morrow?
Well, no matter where-has any careful friend
Discover'd yet, the number of the rebels?

Nor. My lord, as I from spies am well inform'd, Six or seven thousand is their utmost power.