Thy nephews' souls bid thee despair, and die.- The Ghost of Queen ANNE rises. Ghost. Richard, thy wife, that wretched Anne thy wife, That never slept a quiet hour with thee, And fall thy edgeless sword; Despair, and die!- [TO RICHMOND. Dream of success and happy victory; Thy adversary's wife doth pray for thee. 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,2 ere I could lend thee aid: [To RICHMOND. 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. [The Ghosts vanish. King RICHARD starts out of his dream. I died for hope,] i. e. I died for wishing well to you. K. Rich. Give me another horse,3-bind up my wounds, Have mercy, Jesu!-Soft; I did but dream.- Is there a murderer here? No;-Yes; I am: I am a villain: Yet I lie, I am not. Fool, of thyself speak well:-Fool, do not flatter. Nay, wherefore should they? since that I myself Methought, the souls of all that I had murder'd 3 Give me another horse,] There is in this, as in many of our author's speeches of passion, something very trifling, and something very striking. Richard's debate, whether he should quarrel with himself, is too long continued, but the subsequent exaggeration of his crimes is truly tragical. JOHNSON. Rat. My lord, Enter RATCLiff. K. Rich. Who's there? 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. 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, you have ta'en a tardy sluggard here. That 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. Richm. Why, then 'tis time to arm, and give di- One rais'd 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 you fight against God's enemy, You sleep in peace, the tyrant being slain; 4 Of England's chair,] England's chair, means England's throne. quit] i. e. requite 5 Ο For me, the ransom of my bold attempt Re-enter King RICHARD, RATCLIFF, Attendants, and Forces. K. Rich. What said Northumberland, as touching Rat. That he was never trained up in arms. then? Rat. He smil'd and said, the better for our purpose. K. Rich. He was i'the right; and so, indeed, it is. [Clock strikes. Tell the clock there.-Give me a calendar.Who saw the sun to-day? Rat. Not I, my lord. K. Rich. Then he disdains to shine; for, by the book, He should have brav'd 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, 6 the ransom of my bold attempt ] The fine paid by me in atonement for my rashness shall be my dead corse. 7 God, and Saint George!] Saint George was the common cry of the English soldiers when they charged the enemy. 8 brav'd the east-] i. e. made it splendid. |