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Enter GLOSTER, RATCLIFF, NORFOLK, and
Glost. Send out a pursuivant at arms
Catesby. It is, my liege, all in readiness.
Glost. Good Norfolk, hie thee to thy charge!
Nor. Doubt not, my lord.
[Exit. Glost. Saddle White Surry for the field, to-mor
Is 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
hear, His numbers are so few, and those so sick, And famish'd in their march, if he dares fight usHe 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
world 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
watching: I'll forth, and walk a while the 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,
*[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 hollow cavern. No matter what I feel my eyes grow heavy. [Sleeps.
King HENRY's Ghost rises.
LADY Anne's Ghost rises.
E'en in the battle's heat remember me,
[All the Ghosts sink. Glost. Give me a horse !-bind up my wounds! Have mercy, Heaven -Ha! soft ! 'twas but a
Enter CATESBY. Catesby. 'Tis I, my lord; the early village cock Has thrice done salutation to the morn. Your friends are up, and buckle on their armour.
Glost. On, Catesby, I have had such horrid dreams! Catesby. Shadows, my lord !-below the soldier's
heeding. Glost. Now, by my this day's hopes, shadows, to
Catesby. Be more yourself, my lord: consider, sir,
Glost. Perish that thought!--no, never be it said That fate itself could awe the soul of Richard ! Hence, babbling dreams! you threaten here in vain; Conscience, avaunt! Richard's himself again! Hark! the shrill trumpet sounds to horse ! away! My soul's in arms, and eager for the fray! (E.reunt.
Enter RICHMOND, OXFORD, SIR W. BRANDON,
Rich. "Tis well-
we thought them ; Worn as we are, we brave the field before them.