There is no more but so:-Say, it is done, And I will love thee, and prefer thee for it. Tyr. I will despatch it straight.

Re-enter Buckingham.

[Exit.

Buck. My lord, I have consider'd in my mind The late demand that you did sound me in. K. Rich. Well, let that rest. Dorset is fled to Buck. I hear the news, my lord. [Richmond. K. Rich. Stanley, he is your wife's son:-Well, look to it.

Buck. My lord, I claim the gift, my due by promise, For which your honour, and your faith is pawn'd; The earidom of Hereford, and the moveables, Which you have promised I shall possess.

K. Rich. Stanley, look to your wife; if she convey Letters to Richmoud, you shall answer it.

Buck. What says your highness to my just request? K. Rich. I do remember me,-Henry the Sixth Did prophesy, that Richmond should be king, When Richmond was a little peevish boy. A king-perhaps

Buck. My lord,

[that time,
K. Rich. How chance, the prophet could not at
Have told me, I being by, that I should kill him?
Buck. My lord, your promise for the earldom,-
K. Rich. Richmond !-when last I was at Exeter,
The mayor in courtesy show'd me the castle,
And call'd it-Rouge-mont: at which name, I started;
Because a bard of Ireland told me once,

I should not live long after I saw Richmond.
Buck. My lord,-

K. Rich. Buck.

Ay, what's o'clock?

I am thus bold To put your grace in mind of what you promis'd me. K. Rich. Well, but what is't o'clock? Buck. Upon the stroke

Enter Tyrrel.

Tyr. The tyrannous and bloody act is done;
The most arch deed of piteous massacre,
That ever yet this land was guilty of.
Dighton and Forrest, whom I did suborn
To do this piece of ruthless butchery,
Albeit they were flesh'd villains, bloody dogs,
Melting with tenderness and mild compassion,
Wept like two children, in their death's sad story.
O thus, quoth Dighton, lay the gentle babes,--
Thus, thus, quoth Forrest, girdling one another
Within their alabaster innocent arms:
Their lips were four red roses on a stalk,
Which, in their summer beauty, kiss'd each other.
A book of prayers on their pillow lay;

Which once, quoth Forrest, almost chang'd my mind;
But, 0, the devil-there the villain stopp'd;
When Dighton thus told on,--we smothered
The most replenished sweet work of nature,
That, from the prime creation, e'er she fram'd.-
Hence both are gone, with conscience and remorse,
They could not speak; and so I left them both,
To bear this tidings to the bloody king.

Enter King Richard.

Tyr. I humbly take my leave. [Exit. K.Rich. The son of Clarence have I penn'd up close; His daughter meanly have I match'd in marriage; The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham's bosom, And Anne, my wife, hath bid the world good night. Now, for I know the Bretagne Richmond aims At young Elizabeth, my brother's daughter, And, by that knot, looks proudly on the crown, To her go I, a jolly thriving wooer. Enter Catesby.

Cate. My lord,

K. Rich. Good news or bad, that thon com'st in so bluntly? [mond;

Cate. Bad news, my lord: Morton is fled to RichAnd Buckingham, back'd with the hardy Welshmen, Is in the field, and still his power increaseth. [near,

K. Rich. Ely with Richmond troubles me more
Than Buckingham, and his rash-levied strength.
Come, I have learn'd, that fearful commenting
Is leaden servitor to dull delay;
Delay leads impotent and snail-pac'd beggary:
Then fiery expedition be my wing,.
Jove's Mercury, and herald for a king!
Go, muster men: My counsel is my shield;
We must be brief, when traitors brave the field.
[Exeunt.

SCENE IV. The same. Before the Palace.
Enter Queen Margaret.

Q. Mar. So, now prosperity begins to mellow,
And drop into the rotten mouth of death.
Here in these confines slily have I lurk'd,
To watch the waning of mine enemies.
A dire induction am I witness to,
And will to France; hoping, the consequence
Will prove as bitter, black, and tragical.
Withdraw thee, wretched Margaret! who comes here?
Enter Queen Elizabeth and the Duchess of York.
Q. Eliz. Ah, my poor princes! ah, my tender babes!
My unblown flowers, new-appearing sweets!
If yet your gentle souls fly in the air,
And be not fix'd in doom perpetual,
Hover about me with your airy wings,
And hear your mother's lamentation!

Q. Mar. Hover about her; say, that right for right Hath dimm'd your infant morn to aged night.

Duch. So many miseries have craz'd my voice, That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute,Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead?

Q. Mar. Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet, Edward for Edward pays a dying debt.

[lambs,

Q. Eliz. Wilt thou, O God, fly from such gentle And throw them in the entrails of the wolf? When didst thou sleep, when such a deed was done? Q. Mar. When holy Harry died, and my sweet son. Duch. Dead life, blind sight, poor mortal-living

ghost,

Woe'sscene, world's shame,grave's due by life usurp'd,
Brief abstract and record of tedious days,
Rest thy unrest on England's lawful earth,

[Sitting down.
Unlawfully made drunk with innocent blood"
Q. Eliz. Ah, that thou wouldst as soon afford a
As thou canst yield a melancholy seat; [grave,
Then would I hide my bones, not rest them here!
Ah, who hath any cause to mourn, but we?
[Sitting down by ker.
Q. Mar. If ancient sorrow be most reverent,
Give mine the benefit of seniory,
And let my griefs frown on the upper hand.
If sorrow can ad mit society, [Sitting down with them.
Tell o'er your woes again by viewing mine :-
I had an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him;
I had a husband, till a Richard kill'd him;
Thou hadst an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him;
Thou hadst a Richard, till a Richard kill'd him.
Duch. I had a Richard too, and thou didst kill him;
I had a Rutland too, thou holp'st to kill him.
Q. Mar. Thou hadst a Clarence too, and Richard
kill'd him.

From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept
A hell-hound, that doth hunt us all to death":
That dog, that had his teeth before his eyes,
To worry lambs, and lap their gentle blood;
That foul defacer of God's handy-work;
That excellent grand tyrant of the earth,
That reigns in galled eyes of weeping souls,
Thy womb let loose to chase us to our graves.-
O upright, just, and true-disposing God,
How do I thank thee, that this carnal cur

Preys on the issue of his mother's body,
And makes her pew-fellow with others' moan!
Duch. O, Harry's wife, triumph not in my woes;
God witness with me, I have wept for thine.

Q. Mar. Bear with me; I am hungry for revenge,
And now I cloy me with beholding it.
Thy Edward he is dead, that kill'd my Edward;
Thy other Edward dead, to quit my Edward;
Young York he is but boot, because both they
Match not the high perfection of my loss.
Thy Clarence he is dead, that stabb'd my Edward;
And the beholders of this tragic play,"
The adulterate Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Grey,
Untimely smother'd in their dusky graves.
Richard yet lives, hell's black intelligencer;
Only reserv'd their factor, to buy souls,

And send them thither: But at hand, at hand,
Ensues his piteous and unpitied end:
Earth gapes, hell burns, fiends roar, saints pray,
To have him suddenly convey'd from hence:-
Cancel his bond of life, dear God, I pray,
That I may live to say, The dog is dead!

Lcome,

Q. Eliz. O, thou didst prophesy, the time would
That I should wish for thee to help me curse
That bottled spider, that foul banch-back'd toad.
Q. Mar. I call'd thee then, vain flourish of my
fortune;

I call'd thee then, poor shadow, painted queen;
The presentation of but what I was,
The flattering index of a direful pageant,
One heav'd a high, to be hurl'd down below:
A mother only mock'd with two fair babes;
A dream of what thou wast; a garish flag,
To be the aim of every dangerous shot;
A sign of dignity, a breath, a bubble;
A queen in jest, only to fill the scene.
Where is thy husband now? where be thy brothers?
Where be thy two sons? wherein dost thou joy?
Who sues, and kneels, and says-God save the queen?
Where be the bending peers that flatter'd thee?
Where be the thronging troops that follow'd thee?
Decline all this, and see what now thou art.
For happy wife, a most distressed widow;
For joyful mother, one that wails the name;
For one being sued to, one that humbly sues;
For queen, a very caitiff crown'd with care:
For one that scorn'd at me, now scorn'd of me;
For one being fear'd of all, now fearing one:
For one commanding all, obey'd of none.
Thus hath the course of justice wheel'd about,
And left thee but a very prey to time;
Having no more but thought of what thou wert,
To torture thee the more, being what thou art.
Thou didst usurp my place: And dost thou not
Usurp the just proportion of my sorrow?
Now thy proud neck bears half my burden'd yoke;
From which, even here, I slip my wearied head,
And leave the burden of it all on thee.
Farewell, York's wife, and queen of sad mischance,
These English woes shall make me smile in France.
Q. Eliz. O thou well skill'd in curses, stay awhile,
And teach me how to curse mine enemies.

Q. Mar. Forbear to sleep the night, and fast the Compare dead happiness with living woe; [day; Think that thy babes were fairer than they were; And, he that slew them, fouler than he is: Bettering thy loss makes the bad-causer worse; Revolving this will teach thee how to curse.

Q. Eliz. My words are dull, O, quicken them with thine!

Q. Mar. Thy woes will make them sharp, and pierce like mine.

[Exit.

Duch. Why should calamity be full of words?
Q. Eliz. Windy attorneys to their client woes,
Airy succeeders of intestate joys,
Poor breathing orators of miseries!

Let them have scope: though what they do impart
Help nothing else, yet do they ease the heart.
Duch. If so, then be not tongue-tied: go with me,
And in the breath of bitter words let's smother
My damned son, that thy two sweet sons smother'd.
[Drum within.
I hear his drum,-be copious in exclaims.

Enter King Richard and his Train, marching.
K. Rich. Who intercepts me in my expedition?
Duch. O, she, that might have intercepted thee,
By strangling thee in her accursed womb,
From all the slaughters, wretch, that thou hast done.
Q. Eliz. Hid'st thou that forehead with a golden

crown,

Where should be branded, if that right were right,
The slaughter of the prince that ow'd that crown,
And the dire death of my poor sons, and brothers?
Tell me, thou villain slave, where are my children?
Duch. Thou toad, thou toad, where is thy brother
And little Ned Plantagenet, his son? [Clarence?
Q. Eliz. Where is the gentle Rivers, Vaughan, Grey?
Duch. Where is kind Hastings?
[drums!

K. Rich. A flourish, trumpets!-strike alarum,
Let not the heavens bear these tell-tale women
Rail on the Lord's anointed; Strike, I say.
[Flourish. Alarums.

Either be patient, and entreat me fair,
Or with the clamorous report of war
Thus will I drown your exclamations.
Duch. Art thou my son?

1

K. Kich. Ay; I thank God, my father, and yourself. Duch. Then patiently hear my impatience.

K. Rich. Madam, I have a touch of your condition, That cannot brook the accent of reproof. Duch. O, let me speak. K. Rich. Do, then; but I'll not hear. Duch. I will be mild and gentle in my words. K. Rich. And brief, good mother; for 1am in haste. Duch. Art thou so hasty? I have staid for thee, God knows, in torment and in agony.

[rious

K. Rich. And came I not at last to comfort you? Duch. No, by the holy rood, thou know'st it well, Thou cam'st on earth to make the earth my hell. A grievous burden was thy birth to me; Tetchy and wayward was thy infancy; Thy school-days, frightful, desperate, wild, and fuThy prime of manhood, daring, bold, and venturous; Thy age confirm'd, proud, subtle, sly, and bloody, More mild, but yet more harmful, kind in hatred: What comfortable hour canst thou name, That ever grac'd me in thy company?

K. Rich. 'Faith, none, but Humphrey Hour, that call'd your grace

To breakfast once, forth of my company.
If I be so disgracious in your sight,
Let me marchi on, and not offend you, madam.-
Strike up the dram.

Duch.

I pr'ythee, hear me speak.
K. Rich. You speak too bitterly.
Duch.

Hear me a word,
For I shall never speak to thee again.
K. Rich. So.

Duch. Either thou wilt die, by God's just ordinance, Ere from this war thou turn a conqueror; Or I with grief and extreme age shall perish, And never look upon thy face again. Therefore, take with thee my most heavy curse Which, in the day of battle, tire thee more, Than all the complete armour that thou wear'st! My prayers on the adverse party fight; And there the little souls of Edward's children Whisper the spirits of thine enemies, a And promise them success and victory. Bloody thou art, bloody will be thy end;" Shame serves thy life, and doth thy death attend.

[Exit.

Q. Eliz. Though far more cause, yet much less spirit to curse Abides in me; I say amen to her. [Going.

K. Rich. Stay, madam, I must speak a word with

you.

Q. Eliz. I have no more sons of the royal blood, For thee to murder; for my daughters, Kichard, They shall be praying nuns, not weeping queens; And therefore level not to hit their lives.

K. Rich. You have a daughter call'd-Elizabeth, Virtuous and fair, royal and gracious,

Q. Eliz. And must she die for this! O, let her live, And I'll corrupt her manners, stain her beauty; Slander myself, as false to Edward's bed; Throw over her the veil of infamy: So she may live unscarr'd of bleeding slaughter, I will confess she was not Edward's daughter. K. Rich. Wrong not her birth, she is of royal blood. Q. Eliz. To save her life, I'll say-she is not so. K. Rich. Her life is safest only in her birth. Q. Eliz. And only in that safety died her brothers. K. Rich. Lo, at their births good stars were op[trary.

posite.

Q. Eliz. No, to their lives bad friends were conK. Rich. All unavoided is the doom of destiny. Q. Elis. True, when avoided grace makes destiny, My babes were destin'd to a fairer death, If grace had bless'd thee with a fairer life. K. Rich. You speak, as if that I had slain my cou

[sins.

Q. Eliz. Cousins, indeed; and by their unele cozen'd
Of comfort, kingdom, kindred, freedom, life.
Whose hands soever lanc'd their tender hearts,
Thy head, all indirectly, gave direction :

No doubt the murderous knife was dull and blunt,
Till it was whetted on thy stone-hard heart,
To revel in the entrails of my lambs.

But that still use of grief makes wild grief tame,
My tongue should to thy ears not name my boys,
Till that my nails were anchor'd in thine eyes;
And I, in such a desperate bay of death,
Like a poor bark, of sails and tackling reft,
Rash all to pieces on thy rocky bosom.

K. Rich. Madam, so thrive I in my enterprise,
And dangerous success of bloody wars,
As I intend more good to you and yours,
Than ever you or yours by me were harm'd!
Q. Eliz. What good is cover'd with the face of
To be discover'd, that can do me good? [heaven,
K. Rich. The advancement of your children, gentle
lady.
Cheads?
Q. Eliz. Up to some scaffold, there to lose their
K. Rich. No, to the dignity and height of fortune,
The high imperial type of this earth's glory.

Q. Eliz. Flatter my sorrows with report of it; Tell me, what state, what dignity, what honour, Canst thou demise to any child of mine?

K. Rich. Even all I have; ay, and myself and all, Will I withal endow a child of thine : So in the Lethe of thy angry soul Thou drown the sad remembrance of those wrongs, Which, thou supposest, I have done to thee.

Q. Eliz. Be brief, lest that the process of thy kindLast longer telling than thy kindness' date. [ness K. Rich. Then know, that, from my soul, I love thy daughter. [soul.

Q. Eliz. My daughter's mother thinks it with her K. Rich. What do you think? [soul: Q. Eliz. That thou dost love my daughter, from thy So, from thy soul's love, didst thou love her brothers; And, from my heart's love, I do thank thee for it. K. Rich. Be not so hasty to confound my meaning; I mean, that with my soul I love thy daughter, And do intend to make her queen of England.

Q. Eliz. Well then, who dost thou mean shall be her king? [should be?

K. Rich. Even he, that makes her queen: Who else
Q. Eliz. What, thou?

K. Rich. Even so: What think you of it, madam?
Q. Eliz. How canst thou woo her?
K. Rich.

That I would learn of you,
As one being best acquainted with her humour.
Q. Eliz. And wilt thou learn of me?

K. Rich.

[ed:

Having bought love with such a bloody spoil.
K. Rich, Look, what is done cannot be now amend-
Men shall deal unadvisedly sometimes,
Which after-hours give leisure to repent.
If I did take the kingdom from your sons,
To make amends, I'll give it to your daughter,
If I have kill'd the issue of your womb,
To quicken your increase, I will beget

Mine issue of your blood upon your daughter.
A grandam's name is little less in love,
Than is the doting title of a mother;
They are as children, but one step below,
Even of your mettle, of your very blood;
Of all one pain,-save for a night of groans
Endur'd of her, for whom you bid like sorrow.

Your children were vexation to your youth,
But mine shall be a comfort to your age.
The loss, you have, is but-a son being king,
And, by that loss, your daughter is made queen.
I cannot make you what amends I would,"
Therefore accept such kindness as I can.
Dorset, your son, that, with a fearful son!,
Leads discontented steps in foreign soil,
This fair alliance quickly shall call home
To high promotions and great dignity:
The king, that calls your beauteous daughter-wife,
Familiarly shall call thy Dorset-brother;
Again shall you be mother to a king,
And all the ruins of distressful times
Repair'd with double riches of content.
What we have many goodly days to see:
The liquid drops of tears that you have shed,
Shall come again, transform'd to orient pearl;
Advantaging their loan, with interest
Of ten times double gain of happiness.
Go then, my mother, to thy daughter, go;
Make bold her bashful years with your experience;
Prepare her ears to hear a wooer's tale;
Put in her tender heart the aspiring flame
Of golden sov'reignty; acquaint the princess
With the sweet silent hours of marriage joys:
And when this arm of mine hath chastised
The petty rebel, dull-brain'd Buckingham,
Bound with triumphant garlands will I come,
And lead thy daughter to a conqueror's bed;
To whom I will retail my conquest won,
And she shall be sole victress, Caesar's Cæsar.
Q. Eliz. What were I best to say? her father's

brother

forbids.

K. Rich. Say, she shall be a high and mighty queen.
Q. Eliz. To wail the title, as her mother doth.
K. Rich. Say, I will love her everlastingly.
Q. Eliz. But how long shall that title, ever, last?
K. Rich. Sweetly in force unto her fair life's end.
Q. Eliz. But how long fairly shall her sweet life
last?
[it.

K.Rich. As long as heaven, and nature lengthens
Q. Eliz. As long as hell, and Richard, likes of it.
K. Rich. Say I, her sovereign, am her subject low.
Q. Eliz. But she, your subject, loathes such sov'-

reignty.

K. Rich. Be eloquent in my behalf to her.

Q. Eliz. An honest tale speeds best, being plainly told. (tale.

K. Rich. Then, in plain terms, tell her my loving Q. Eliz. Plain, and not honest, is too harsh a style. K. Rich. Your reasons are too shallow and too

quick.

crown,

Q. Eliz. O, no, my reasons are too deep and dead;Too deep and dead, poor infants, in their graves. K. Rick. Harp not on that string, madam; that is past. [break. Q. Eliz. Harp on it still shall I, till heart-strings K. Rich. Now, by my George, my garter, and my [usurp'd. Q. Eliz. Profan'd, dishonour'd, and the third K. Rich. I swear. Q. Eliz. By nothing; for this is no oath: Thy George, profan'd, hath lost his holy honour; Thy garter, blemish'd, pawn'd his knightly virtue; Thy crown, usurp'd, disgrac'd his kingly glory: If something thou wouldst swear to be believ'd, Swear then by something that thou hast not wrong'd. K. Rich. Now by the world,

Q. Eliz.

Tis full of thy foul wrongs.

K. Rich. My father's death, Q. Eliz.

Thy life hath that dishonour'd.

K. Rich. Then, by myself,Q. Eliz.

Thyself is self-misus'd.

K. Rich. Why then, by God,-
Q. Eliz.

God's wrong is most of all.
If thou hadst fear'd to break an oath by him,
The unity, the king, thy brother, made,
Had not been broken, nor my brother slain.
If thou hadst fear'd to break an oath by him,

[me :

A royal battle might be won and lost:-
Some one take order, Buckingham be brought
To Salisbury;-the rest march on with me. [Exeunt.
SCENE V. A Room in Lord Stanley's House.
Enter Stanley and Sir Christopher Urswick.
Stan. Sir Christopher, tell Richmond this from
That, in the sty of this most bloody boar,
My son, George Stanley, is frank'd up in hold;
If I revolt, off goes young George's head
The fear of that withholds my present aid.
But, tell me, where is princely Richmond now!
Chris. At Pembroke, or at Ha'rford-west in Wales.
Stan. What men of name resort to him?
Chris. Sir Walter Herbert, a renowned soldier;
Sir Gilbert Talbot, sir William Stanley;
Oxford, redoubted Pembroke, sir James Blunt,
And Rice ap Thomas, with a valiant crew;
And many other of great fame and worth:
And towards London do they bend their course,
If by the way they be not fought withal.

Stan. Well, hie thee to thy lord; commend me to
Tell him, the queen hath heartily consented [him;
He shall espouse Elizabeth her daughter.
These letters will resolve him of my mind.
Farewell, [Gives Papers to Sir Christopher.
[Exeunt.

Sheriff. No, my good lord; therefore be patient.
Buck. Hastings, and Edward's children, Rivers,
Holy king Henry, and thy fair son Edward, [Grey,
Vaughan, and all that have miscarried
By underhand corrupted foul injustice;
If that your moody discontented souls

Do through the clouds behold this present hour,
Even for revenge mock my destruction!-
This is All-Souls' day, fellows, is it not?
Sheriff. It is, my lord.

[day.

Buck. Why,then All-Souls' day is my body's dooms-
This is the day, which, in king Edward's time,
I wish'd might fall on me, when I was found
False to his children, or his wife's allies:
This is the day, wherein I wish'd to fall

By the false faith of him whom most I trusted:
This, this All-Souls' day to my fearful soul,
Is the determin'd respite of my wrongs.
That high All-seer which I dallied with,
Hath turn'd my feigned prayer on my head,
And given in earnest what I begg'd in jest.
Thus doth he force the swords of wicked men
To turn their own points on their masters' bosoms:
Thus Margaret's curse falls heavy on my neck,-
When he, quoth she, shall split thy heart with sor-
Remember Margaret was a prophetess.-
Come, sirs, convey me to the block of shame;
Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of blame.
[Exeunt Buckingham, &c.

[row,

must we not?

Nor. We must both give and take, my loving lord. K. Rich. Up with my tent: Here will I lie tonight;

[Soldiers begin to set up the King's Tent. But where to-morrow -Well, ali's one for thatWho hath descried the number of the traitors?

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 want no discipline, 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 Lords. 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 ;-
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 :
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.

Chim,

Richm. If without peril it be possible, Sweet Blunt, make some good means to speak with And give him from me this most needful note. Blunt. Upon my life, my lord, I'll undertake it; And so, God give you quiet rest to-night! Richm. Good night, good captain Blunt. Come, gentlemen, Let us consult upon to-morrow's business; Into my tent, the air is raw and cold.

Enter, to his Tent, King Richard, Norfolk, Ratcliff, [They withdraw into the Tent.

and Catesby. K. Rich. What is't o'clock ? Cate.

It's nine o'clock.

K. Rich.

It's supper-time, my lord;

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 ?

[ness.

Cate. It is, my liege; and all things are in readiK. Rich. Good Norfolk, hie thee to thy charge; Use careful watch, choose trusty sentinels. Nor. I go, my lord.

[folk.

K. Rich. Stir with the lark to-morrow, gentle Nor-
Nor. I warrant you, my lord.
[Exit.
K. Rich. Ratcliff,

Rat. My lord ! K. Rich.

Send cut 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.