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Let not our babbling dreams affright our souls;
Conscience is but a word that cowards

use,
Devis'd 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 infer'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 assur'd destruction. You, sleeping safe, they bring you to unrest; You, having lands, and bless'd 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.

K. Rich. A thousand hearts are great within my bo

som :

Advance our standards, set upon our foes;
Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint George,
Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons !
Upon them! Victory sits on our helms. (Exeunt.

SCENE IV.-Another part of the field.

Alarum : Excursions. Enter NORFOLK, and forces; to

him CATESBY. Cate. Rescue, my lord of Norfolk, rescue, rescue! The king enacts more wonders than a man, Daring an opposite to every danger; His horse is slain, and all on foot he fights, Seeking for Richmond in the throat of death : Rescue, fair lord, or else the day is lost !

Alarum. Enter King Richard. K. Rich. A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a Cate. Withdraw, my lord, I'll help you to a horse.

horse !

K. Rich. Slave, I have set my life upon a cast,
And I will stand the hazard of the die:
I think, there be six Richmonds in the field ;
Five have I slain to-day instead of him :-
A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse !

[Exeunt.

Alarums. Enter King Richard and RichMOND; and

ereunt, fighting. Retreat, and flourish. Then enter RICHMOND, STANLEY, bearing the Crown, with divers other Lords, and forces. Richm. God, and your arms, be prais’d, victorious

friends; The day is ours, the bloody dog is dead. Stan. Courageous Richmond, well hast thou acquit

thee!
Lo, here, this long-usurped royalty
From the dead temples of this bloody wretch
Have I pluck'd off, to grace thy brows withal ;
Wear it, enjoy it, and make much of it.

Richm. Great God of heaven, say, amen, to all!
But, tell me first, is young George Stanley living?

Stan. He is, my lord, and safe in Leicester town; Whither, if it please you, we may now withdraw us.

Richm. What men of name are slain on either side?

Stan. John duke of Norfolk, Walter lord Ferrers, Sir Robert Brakenbury, and Sir William Brandon.

Richm. Inter their bodies as becomes their births. Proclaim a pardon to the soldiers fled, That in submission will return to us; And then, as we have ta'en the sacrament,

We will unite the white rose with the red :-
Smile heaven upon this fair conjunction,
That long hath frown'd upon their enmity S
What traitor hears

me,
and

says not,-amen ?
England hath long been mad, and scarr'd herself;
The brother blindly shed the brother's blood,
The father rashly slaughter'd his own son,
The son, compelld, been butcher to the sire ;
All this divided York and Lancaster,
Divided, in their dire division.-
O, now, let Richmond and Elizabeth,
The true succeeders of each royal house,
By God's fair ordinance conjoin together!
And let their heirs, (God, if thy will be so,)
Enrich the time to come with smooth-fac'd peace,
With smiling plenty, and fair prosperous days !
Abate the edge of traitors, gracious Lord,
That would reduce these bloody days again,
And make poor England weep in streams of blood !
Let them not live to taste this land's increase,
That would with treason wound this fair land's peace!
Now civil wounds are stopp’d, peace lives again ;
That she may long live here, God say-Amen!

[Exeunt.

KING HENRY VIII.

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