Rich. Ah Buckingham, now doe I play the Touch, To trie if thou be currant Gold indeed: Young Edward liues, thinke now what I would speake

Buck. Say on my louing Lord

Rich. Why Buckingham, I say I would be King

Buck. Why so you are, my thrice-renowned Lord

Rich. Ha? am I King? 'tis so: but Edward liues

Buck True, Noble Prince

Rich. O bitter consequence! That Edward still should liue true Noble Prince. Cousin, thou wast not wont to be so dull. Shall I be plaine? I wish the Bastards dead, And I would haue it suddenly perform'd. What say'st thou now? speake suddenly, be briefe

Buck. Your Grace may doe your pleasure

Rich. Tut, tut, thou art all Ice, thy kindnesse freezes: Say, haue I thy consent, that they shall dye? Buc. Giue me some litle breath, some pawse, deare Lord, Before I positiuely speake in this: I will resolue you herein presently.

Exit Buck[ingham].

Catesby. The King is angry, see he gnawes his Lippe

Rich. I will conuerse with Iron-witted Fooles, And vnrespectiue Boyes: none are for me, That looke into me with considerate eyes, High-reaching Buckingham growes circumspect. Boy

Page. My Lord

Rich. Know'st thou not any, whom corrupting Gold Will tempt vnto a close exploit of Death? Page. I know a discontented Gentleman, Whose humble meanes match not his haughtie spirit: Gold were as good as twentie Orators, And will (no doubt) tempt him to any thing

Rich. What is his Name? Page. His Name, my Lord, is Tirrell

Rich. I partly know the man: goe call him hither, Boy. Enter.

The deepe reuoluing wittie Buckingham, No more shall be the neighbor to my counsailes. Hath he so long held out with me, vntyr'd, And stops he now for breath? Well, be it so. Enter Stanley.

How now, Lord Stanley, what's the newes? Stanley. Know my louing Lord, the Marquesse Dorset As I heare, is fled to Richmond, In the parts where he abides

Rich. Come hither Catesby, rumor it abroad, That Anne my Wife is very grieuous sicke, I will take order for her keeping close. Inquire me out some meane poore Gentleman, Whom I will marry straight to Clarence Daughter: The Boy is foolish, and I feare not him. Looke how thou dream'st: I say againe, giue out, That Anne, my Queene, is sicke, and like to dye. About it, for it stands me much vpon To stop all hopes, whose growth may dammage me. I must be marryed to my Brothers Daughter, Or else my Kingdome stands on brittle Glasse: Murther her Brothers, and then marry her, Vncertaine way of gaine. But I am in So farre in blood, that sinne will pluck on sinne, Teare-falling Pittie dwells not in this Eye. Enter Tyrrel.

Is thy Name Tyrrel? Tyr. Iames Tyrrel, and your most obedient subiect

Rich. Art thou indeed? Tyr. Proue me, my gracious Lord

Rich. Dar'st thou resolue to kill a friend of mine? Tyr. Please you: But I had rather kill two enemies

Rich. Why then thou hast it: two deepe enemies, Foes to my Rest, and my sweet sleepes disturbers, Are they that I would haue thee deale vpon: Tyrrel, I meane those Bastards in the Tower

Tyr. Let me haue open meanes to come to them, And soone Ile rid you from the feare of them

Rich. Thou sing'st sweet Musique: Hearke, come hither Tyrrel, Goe by this token: rise, and lend thine Eare,

Whispers.

There is no more but so: say it is done, And I will loue thee, and preferre thee for it

Tyr. I will dispatch it straight. Enter.

Enter Buckingham.

Buck. My Lord, I haue consider'd in my minde, The late request that you did sound me in

Rich. Well, let that rest: Dorset is fled to Richmond

Buck. I heare the newes, my Lord

Rich. Stanley, hee is your Wiues Sonne: well, looke vnto it

Buck. My Lord, I clayme the gift, my due by promise, For which your Honor and your Faith is pawn'd, Th' Earledome of Hertford, and the moueables, Which you haue promised I shall possesse

Rich. Stanley looke to your Wife: if she conuey Letters to Richmond, you shall answer it

Buck. What sayes your Highnesse to my iust request? Rich. I doe remember me, Henry the Sixt Did prophecie, that Richmond should be King, When Richmond was a little peeuish Boy. A King perhaps

Buck. May it please you to resolue me in my suit

Rich. Thou troublest me, I am not in the vaine. Enter

Buck. And is it thus? repayes he my deepe seruice With such contempt? made I him King for this? O let me thinke on Hastings, and be gone To Brecnock, while my fearefull Head is on. Enter.

Enter Tyrrel.

Tyr. The tyrannous and bloodie Act is done, The most arch deed of pittious massacre That euer yet this Land was guilty of: Dighton and Forrest, who I did suborne To do this peece of ruthfull Butchery, Albeit they were flesht Villaines, bloody Dogges, Melted with tendernesse, and milde compassion, Wept like to Children, in their deaths sad Story. O thus (quoth Dighton) lay the gentle Babes: Thus, thus (quoth Forrest) girdling one another Within their Alablaster innocent Armes: Their lips were foure red Roses on a stalke, And in their Summer Beauty kist each other. A Booke of Prayers on their pillow lay, Which one (quoth Forrest) almost chang'd my minde: But oh the Diuell, there the Villaine stopt: When Dighton thus told on, we smothered The most replenished sweet worke of Nature, That from the prime Creation ere she framed. Hence both are gone with Conscience and Remorse, They could not speake, and so I left them both, To beare this tydings to the bloody King. Enter Richard.

And heere he comes. All health my Soueraigne Lord

Ric. Kinde Tirrell, am I happy in thy Newes

Tir. If to haue done the thing you gaue in charge, Beget your happinesse, be happy then, For it is done

Rich. But did'st thou see them dead

Tir. I did my Lord

Rich. And buried gentle Tirrell

Tir. The Chaplaine of the Tower hath buried them, But where (to say the truth) I do not know

Rich. Come to me Tirrel soone, and after Supper, When thou shalt tell the processe of their death. Meane time, but thinke how I may do the good, And be inheritor of thy desire. Farewell till then

Tir. I humbly take my leaue

Rich. The Sonne of Clarence haue I pent vp close, His daughter meanly haue I matcht in marriage, The Sonnes of Edward sleepe in Abrahams bosome, And Anne my wife hath bid this world good night. Now for I know the Britaine Richmond aymes At yong Elizabeth my brothers daughter, And by that knot lookes proudly on the Crowne, To her go I, a iolly thriuing wooer. Enter Ratcliffe.

Rat. My Lord

Rich. Good or bad newes, that thou com'st in so bluntly? Rat. Bad news my Lord, Mourton is fled to Richmond, And Buckingham backt with the hardy Welshmen Is in the field, and still his power encreaseth

Rich. Ely with Richmond troubles me more neere, Then Buckingham and his rash leuied Strength. Come, I haue learn'd, that fearfull commenting Is leaden seruitor to dull delay. Delay leds impotent and Snaile-pac'd Beggery: Then fierie expedition be my wing, Ioues Mercury, and Herald for a King: Go muster men: My counsaile is my Sheeld, We must be breefe, when Traitors braue the Field.

Exeunt.

Scena Tertia.

Enter old Queene Margaret

Mar. So now prosperity begins to mellow, And drop into the rotten mouth of death: Heere in these Confines slily haue I lurkt, To watch the waining of mine enemies. A dire induction, am I witnesse to, And will to France, hoping the consequence Will proue as bitter, blacke, and Tragicall. Withdraw thee wretched Margaret, who comes heere? Enter Dutchesse and Queene.

Qu. Ah my poore Princes! ah my tender Babes: My vnblowed Flowres, new appearing sweets: If yet your gentle soules flye in the Ayre, And be not fixt in doome perpetuall, Houer about me with your ayery wings, And heare your mothers Lamentation

Mar. Houer about her, say that right for right Hath dim'd your Infant morne, to Aged night

Dut. So many miseries haue craz'd my voyce, That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute. Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead? Mar. Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet, Edward for Edward, payes a dying debt

Qu. Wilt thou, O God, flye from such gentle Lambs, And throw them in the intrailes of the Wolfe? When didst thou sleepe, when such a deed was done? Mar. When holy Harry dyed, and my sweet Sonne

Dut. Dead life, blind sight, poore mortall liuing ghost, Woes Scene, Worlds shame, Graues due, by life vsurpt, Breefe abstract and record of tedious dayes, Rest thy vnrest on Englands lawfull earth, Vnlawfully made drunke with innocent blood

Qu. Ah that thou would'st assoone affoord a Graue, As thou canst yeeld a melancholly seate: Then would I hide my bones, not rest them heere, Ah who hath any cause to mourne but wee? Mar. If ancient sorrow be most reuerent, Giue mine the benefit of signeurie, And let my greefes frowne on the vpper hand If sorrow can admit Society. I had an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him: I had a Husband, till a Richard kill'd him: Thou had'st an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him: Thou had'st a Richard, till a Richard kill'd him

Dut. I had a Richard too, and thou did'st kill him; I had a Rutland too, thou hop'st to kill him

Mar. Thou had'st a Clarence too, And Richard kill'd him. From forth the kennell of thy wombe hath crept A Hell-hound that doth hunt vs all to death: That Dogge, that had his teeth before his eyes, To worry Lambes, and lap their gentle blood: That foule defacer of Gods handy worke: That reignes in gauled eyes of weeping soules: That excellent grand Tyrant of the earth, Thy wombe let loose to chase vs to our graues. O vpright, iust, and true-disposing God, How do I thanke thee, that this carnall Curre Prayes on the issue of his Mothers body, And makes her Pue-fellow with others mone

Dut. Oh Harries wife, triumph not in my woes: God witnesse with me, I haue wept for thine

Mar. Beare with me: I am hungry for reuenge, And now I cloy me with beholding it. Thy Edward he is dead, that kill'd my Edward, The other Edward dead, to quit my Edward: Yong Yorke, he is but boote, because both they Matcht not the high perfection of my losse. Thy Clarence he is dead, that stab'd my Edward, And the beholders of this franticke play, Th' adulterate Hastings, Riuers, Vaughan, Gray, Vntimely smother'd in their dusky Graues. Richard yet liues, Hels blacke Intelligencer, Onely reseru'd their Factor, to buy soules, And send them thither: But at hand, at hand Insues his pittious and vnpittied end. Earth gapes, Hell burnes, Fiends roare, Saints pray, To haue him sodainly conuey'd from hence: Cancell his bond of life, deere God I pray, That I may liue and say, The Dogge is dead

Qu. O thou did'st prophesie, the time would come, That I should wish for thee to helpe me curse That bottel'd Spider, that foule bunch-back'd Toad

Mar. I call'd thee then, vaine flourish of my fortune: I call'd thee then, poore Shadow, painted Queen, The presentation of but what I was; The flattering Index of a direfull Pageant; One heau'd a high, to be hurl'd downe below: A Mother onely mockt with two faire Babes; A dreame of what thou wast, a garish Flagge To be the ayme of euery dangerous Shot; A signe of Dignity, a Breath, a Bubble; A Queene in ieast, onely to fill the Scene. Where is thy Husband now? Where be thy Brothers? Where be thy two Sonnes? Wherein dost thou Ioy? Who sues, and kneeles, and sayes, God saue the Queene? Where be the bending Peeres that flattered thee? Where be the thronging Troopes that followed thee? Decline all this, and see what now thou art. For happy Wife, a most distressed Widdow: For ioyfull Mother, one that wailes the name: For one being sued too, one that humbly sues: For Queene, a very Caytiffe, crown'd with care: For she that scorn'd at me, now scorn'd of me: For she being feared of all, now fearing one: For she commanding all, obey'd of none. Thus hath the course of Iustice whirl'd about, And left thee but a very prey to time, Hauing no more but Thought of what thou wast. To torture thee the more, being what thou art, Thou didst vsurpe my place, and dost thou not Vsurpe the iust proportion of my Sorrow? Now thy proud Necke, beares halfe my burthen'd yoke, From which, euen heere I slip my wearied head, And leaue the burthen of it all, on thee. Farwell Yorkes wife, and Queene of sad mischance, These English woes, shall make me smile in France

Qu. O thou well skill'd in Curses, stay a-while, And teach me how to curse mine enemies

Mar. Forbeare to sleepe the night, and fast the day: Compare dead happinesse, with liuing woe: Thinke that thy Babes were sweeter then they were, And he that slew them fowler then he is: Bett'ring thy losse, makes the bad causer worse, Reuoluing this, will teach thee how to Curse

Qu. My words are dull, O quicken them with thine

Mar. Thy woes will make them sharpe, And pierce like mine.

Exit Margaret.

Dut. Why should calamity be full of words? Qu. Windy Atturnies to their Clients Woes, Ayery succeeders of intestine ioyes, Poore breathing Orators of miseries, Let them haue scope, though what they will impart, Helpe nothing els, yet do they ease the hart

Dut. If so then, be not Tongue-ty'd: go with me, And in the breath of bitter words, let's smother My damned Son, that thy two sweet Sonnes smother'd. The Trumpet sounds, be copious in exclaimes. Enter King Richard, and his Traine.

Rich. Who intercepts me in my Expedition? Dut. O she, that might haue intercepted thee By strangling thee in her accursed wombe, From all the slaughters (Wretch) that thou hast done

Qu. Hid'st thou that Forhead with a Golden Crowne Where't should be branded, if that right were right? The slaughter of the Prince that ow'd that Crowne, And the dyre death of my poore Sonnes, and Brothers. Tell me thou Villaine-slaue, where are my Children? Dut. Thou Toad, thou Toade, Where is thy Brother Clarence? And little Ned Plantagenet his Sonne? Qu. Where is the gentle Riuers, Vaughan, Gray? Dut. Where is kinde Hastings? Rich. A flourish Trumpets, strike Alarum Drummes: Let not the Heauens heare these Tell-tale women Raile on the Lords Annointed. Strike I say.

Flourish. Alarums.

Either be patient, and intreat me fayre, Or with the clamorous report of Warre, Thus will I drowne your exclamations

Dut. Art thou my Sonne? Rich. I, I thanke God, my Father, and your selfe

Dut. Then patiently heare my impatience

Rich. Madam, I haue a touch of your condition, That cannot brooke the accent of reproofe

Dut. O let me speake

Rich. Do then, but Ile not heare

Dut. I will be milde, and gentle in my words

Rich. And breefe (good Mother) for I am in hast

Dut. Art thou so hasty? I haue staid for thee (God knowes) in torment and in agony

Rich. And came I not at last to comfort you? Dut. No by the holy Rood, thou know'st it well, Thou cam'st on earth, to make the earth my Hell. A greeuous burthen was thy Birth to me, Tetchy and wayward was thy Infancie. Thy School-daies frightfull, desp'rate, wilde, and furious, Thy prime of Manhood, daring, bold, and venturous: Thy Age confirm'd, proud, subtle, slye, and bloody, More milde, but yet more harmfull; Kinde in hatred: What comfortable houre canst thou name, That euer grac'd me with thy company? Rich. Faith none, but Humfrey Hower, That call'd your Grace To Breakefast once, forth of my company. If I be so disgracious in your eye, Let me march on, and not offend you Madam. Strike vp the Drumme

Dut. I prythee heare me speake

Rich. You speake too bitterly

Dut. Heare me a word: For I shall neuer speake to thee againe

Rich. So

Dut. Either thou wilt dye, by Gods iust ordinance Ere from this warre thou turne a Conqueror: Or I with greefe and extreame Age shall perish, And neuer more behold thy face againe. Therefore take with thee my most greeuous Curse, Which in the day of Battell tyre thee more Then all the compleat Armour that thou wear'st. My Prayers on the aduerse party fight, And there the little soules of Edwards Children, Whisper the Spirits of thine Enemies, And promise them Successe and Victory: Bloody thou art, bloody will be thy end: Shame serues thy life, and doth thy death attend. Enter.

Qu. Though far more cause, yet much lesse spirit to curse Abides in me, I say Amen to her

Rich. Stay Madam, I must talke a word with you

Qu. I haue no more sonnes of the Royall Blood For thee to slaughter. For my Daughters (Richard) They shall be praying Nunnes, not weeping Queenes: And therefore leuell not to hit their liues

Rich. You haue a daughter call'd Elizabeth, Vertuous and Faire, Royall and Gracious? Qu. And must she dye for this? O let her liue, And Ile corrupt her Manners, staine her Beauty, Slander my Selfe, as false to Edwards bed: Throw ouer her the vaile of Infamy, So she may liue vnscarr'd of bleeding slaughter, I will confesse she was not Edwards daughter

Rich. Wrong not her Byrth, she is a Royall Princesse

Qu. To saue her life, Ile say she is not so

Rich. Her life is safest onely in her byrth

Qu. And onely in that safety, dyed her Brothers

Rich. Loe at their Birth, good starres were opposite

Qu. No, to their liues, ill friends were contrary

Rich. All vnauoyded is the doome of Destiny

Qu. True: when auoyded grace makes Destiny. My Babes were destin'd to a fairer death, If grace had blest thee with a fairer life

Rich. You speake as if that I had slaine my Cosins? Qu. Cosins indeed, and by their Vnckle couzend, Of Comfort, Kingdome, Kindred, Freedome, Life, Whose hand soeuer lanch'd their tender hearts, Thy head (all indirectly) gaue direction. No doubt the murd'rous Knife was dull and blunt, Till it was whetted on thy stone-hard heart, To reuell in the Intrailes of my Lambes. But that still vse of greefe, makes wilde greefe tame, My tongue should to thy eares not name my Boyes, Till that my Nayles were anchor'd in thine eyes: And I in such a desp'rate Bay of death, Like a poore Barke, of sailes and tackling reft, Rush all to peeces on thy Rocky bosome

Rich. Madam, so thriue I in my enterprize And dangerous successe of bloody warres, As I intend more good to you and yours, Then euer you and yours by me were harm'd

Qu. What good is couer'd with the face of heauen, To be discouered, that can do me good

Rich. Th' aduancement of your children, gentle Lady Qu. Vp to some Scaffold, there to lose their heads

Rich. Vnto the dignity and height of Fortune, The high Imperiall Type of this earths glory

Qu. Flatter my sorrow with report of it: Tell me, what State, what Dignity, what Honor, Canst thou demise to any childe of mine

Rich. Euen all I haue; I, and my selfe and all, Will I withall indow a childe of thine: So in the Lethe of thy angry soule, Thou drowne the sad remembrance of those wrongs, Which thou supposest I haue done to thee

Qu. Be breefe, least that the processe of thy kindnesse Last longer telling then thy kindnesse date

Rich. Then know, That from my Soule, I loue thy Daughter

Qu. My daughters Mother thinkes it with her soule

Rich. What do you thinke? Qu. That thou dost loue my daughter from thy soule So from thy Soules loue didst thou loue her Brothers, And from my hearts loue, I do thanke thee for it

Rich. Be not so hasty to confound my meaning: I meane that with my Soule I loue thy daughter, And do intend to make her Queene of England

Qu. Well then, who dost y meane shallbe her King

Rich. Euen he that makes her Queene: Who else should bee? Qu. What, thou? Rich. Euen so: How thinke you of it? Qu. How canst thou woo her? Rich. That I would learne of you, As one being best acquainted with her humour

Qu. And wilt thou learne of me? Rich. Madam, with all my heart

Qu. Send to her by the man that slew her Brothers. A paire of bleeding hearts: thereon ingraue Edward and Yorke, then haply will she weepe: Therefore present to her, as sometime Margaret Did to thy Father, steept in Rutlands blood, A hand-kercheefe, which say to her did dreyne The purple sappe from her sweet Brothers body, And bid her wipe her weeping eyes withall. If this inducement moue her not to loue, Send her a Letter of thy Noble deeds: Tell her, thou mad'st away her Vnckle Clarence, Her Vnckle Riuers, I (and for her sake) Mad'st quicke conueyance with her good Aunt Anne

Rich. You mocke me Madam, this not the way To win your daughter

Qu. There is no other way, Vnlesse thou could'st put on some other shape, And not be Richard, that hath done all this

Ric. Say that I did all this for loue of her

Qu. Nay then indeed she cannot choose but hate thee Hauing bought loue, with such a bloody spoyle

Rich. Looke what is done, cannot be now amended: Men shall deale vnaduisedly sometimes, Which after-houres giues leysure to repent. If I did take the Kingdome from your Sonnes, To make amends, Ile giue it to your daughter: If I haue kill'd the issue of your wombe, To quicken your encrease, I will beget Mine yssue of your blood, vpon your Daughter: A Grandams name is little lesse in loue, Then is the doting Title of a Mother; They are as Children but one steppe below, Euen of your mettall, of your very blood: Of all one paine, saue for a night of groanes 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 losse you haue, is but a Sonne being King, And by that losse, your Daughter is made Queene. I cannot make you what amends I would, Therefore accept such kindnesse as I can. Dorset your Sonne, that with a fearfull soule Leads discontented steppes in Forraine soyle, This faire Alliance, quickly shall call home To high Promotions, and great Dignity. The King that calles your beauteous Daughter Wife, Familiarly shall call thy Dorset, Brother: Againe shall you be Mother to a King: And all the Ruines of distressefull Times, Repayr'd with double Riches of Content. What? we haue many goodly dayes to see: The liquid drops of Teares that you haue shed, Shall come againe, transform'd to Orient Pearle, Aduantaging their Loue, with interest Often-times double gaine of happinesse. Go then (my Mother) to thy Daughter go, Make bold her bashfull yeares, with your experience, Prepare her eares to heare a Woers Tale. Put in her tender heart, th' aspiring Flame Of Golden Soueraignty: Acquaint the Princesse With the sweet silent houres of Marriage ioyes: And when this Arme of mine hath chastised The petty Rebell, dull-brain'd Buckingham, Bound with Triumphant Garlands will I come, And leade thy daughter to a Conquerors bed: To whom I will retaile my Conquest wonne, And she shalbe sole Victoresse, Csars Csar

Qu. What were I best to say, her Fathers Brother Would be her Lord? Or shall I say her Vnkle? Or he that slew her Brothers, and her Vnkles? Vnder what Title shall I woo for thee, That God, the Law, my Honor, and her Loue, Can make seeme pleasing to her tender yeares? Rich. Inferre faire Englands peace by this Alliance

Qu. Which she shall purchase with stil lasting warre

Rich. Tell her, the King that may command, intreats

Qu. That at her hands, which the kings King forbids

Rich. Say she shall be a High and Mighty Queene

Qu. To vaile the Title, as her Mother doth

Rich. Say I will loue her euerlastingly

Qu. But how long shall that title euer last? Rich. Sweetly in force, vnto her faire liues end

Qu. But how long fairely shall her sweet life last? Rich. As long as Heauen and Nature lengthens it

Qu. As long as Hell and Richard likes of it

Rich. Say, I her Soueraigne, am her Subiect low

Qu. But she your Subiect, lothes such Soueraignty

Rich. Be eloquent in my behalfe to her

Qu. An honest tale speeds best, being plainly told

Rich. Then plainly to her, tell my louing tale

Qu. Plaine and not honest, is too harsh a style

Rich. Your Reasons are too shallow, and to quicke

Qu. O no, my Reasons are too deepe and dead, Too deepe and dead (poore Infants) in their graues, Harpe on it still shall I, till heart-strings breake

Rich. Harpe not on that string Madam, that is past. Now by my George, my Garter, and my Crowne

Qu. Prophan'd, dishonor'd, and the third vsurpt

Rich. I sweare

Qu. By nothing, for this is no Oath: Thy George prophan'd, hath lost his Lordly Honor; Thy Garter blemish'd, pawn'd his Knightly Vertue; Thy Crowne vsurp'd, disgrac'd his Kingly Glory: If something thou would'st sweare to be beleeu'd, Sweare then by something, that thou hast not wrong'd

Rich. Then by my Selfe

Qu. Thy Selfe, is selfe-misvs'd

Rich. Now by the World

Qu. 'Tis full of thy foule wrongs

Rich. My Fathers death

Qu. Thy life hath it dishonor'd

Rich. Why then, by Heauen

Qu. Heauens wrong is most of all: If thou didd'st feare to breake an Oath with him, The vnity the King my husband made, Thou had'st not broken, nor my Brothers died. If thou had'st fear'd to breake an oath by him, Th' Imperiall mettall, circling now thy head, Had grac'd the tender temples of my Child, And both the Princes had bene breathing heere, Which now two tender Bed-fellowes for dust, Thy broken Faith hath made the prey for Wormes. What can'st thou sweare by now

Rich. The time to come

Qu. That thou hast wronged in the time ore-past: For I my selfe haue many teares to wash Heereafter time, for time past, wrong'd by thee. The Children liue, whose Fathers thou hast slaughter'd, Vngouern'd youth, to waile it with their age: The Parents liue, whose Children thou hast butcher'd, Old barren Plants, to waile it with their Age. Sweare not by time to come, for that thou hast Misvs'd ere vs'd, by times ill-vs'd repast

Rich. As I entend to prosper, and repent: So thriue I in my dangerous Affayres Of hostile Armes: My selfe, my selfe confound: Heauen, and Fortune barre me happy houres: Day, yeeld me not thy light; nor Night, thy rest. Be opposite all Planets of good lucke To my proceeding, if with deere hearts loue, Immaculate deuotion, holy thoughts, I tender not thy beautious Princely daughter. In her, consists my Happinesse, and thine: Without her, followes to my selfe, and thee; Her selfe, the Land, and many a Christian soule, Death, Desolation, Ruine, and Decay: It cannot be auoyded, but by this: It will not be auoyded, but by this. Therefore deare Mother (I must call you so) Be the Atturney of my loue to her: Pleade what I will be, not what I haue beene; Not my deserts, but what I will deserue: Vrge the Necessity and state of times, And be not peeuish found, in great Designes

Qu. Shall I be tempted of the Diuel thus? Rich. I, if the Diuell tempt you to do good

Qu. Shall I forget my selfe, to be my selfe

Rich. I, if your selfes remembrance wrong your selfe

Qu. Yet thou didst kil my Children

Rich. But in your daughters wombe I bury them. Where in that Nest of Spicery they will breed Selues of themselues, to your recomforture

Qu. Shall I go win my daughter to thy will? Rich. And be a happy Mother by the deed

Qu. I go, write to me very shortly, And you shal vnderstand from me her mind.

Exit Q[ueene].

Rich. Beare her my true loues kisse, and so farewell. Relenting Foole, and shallow-changing Woman. How now, what newes? Enter Ratcliffe.

Rat. Most mightie Soueraigne, on the Westerne Coast Rideth a puissant Nauie: to our Shores Throng many doubtfull hollow-hearted friends, Vnarm'd, and vnresolu'd to beat them backe. 'Tis thought, that Richmond is their Admirall: And there they hull, expecting but the aide Of Buckingham, to welcome them ashore

Rich. Some light-foot friend post to y Duke of Norfolk: Ratcliffe thy selfe, or Catesby, where is hee? Cat. Here, my good Lord

Rich. Catesby, flye to the Duke

Cat. I will, my Lord, with all conuenient haste

Rich. Catesby come hither, poste to Salisbury: When thou com'st thither: Dull vnmindfull Villaine, Why stay'st thou here, and go'st not to the Duke? Cat. First, mighty Liege, tell me your Highnesse pleasure, What from your Grace I shall deliuer to him

Rich. O true, good Catesby, bid him leuie straight The greatest strength and power that he can make, And meet me suddenly at Salisbury

Cat. I goe. Enter.

Rat. What, may it please you, shall I doe at Salisbury? Rich. Why, what would'st thou doe there, before I goe? Rat. Your Highnesse told me I should poste before

Rich. My minde is chang'd: Enter Lord Stanley.

Stanley, what newes with you? Sta. None, good my Liege, to please you with y hearing, Nor none so bad, but well may be reported

Rich. Hoyday, a Riddle, neither good nor bad: What need'st thou runne so many miles about, When thou mayest tell thy Tale the neerest way? Once more, what newes? Stan. Richmond is on the Seas

Rich. There let him sinke, and be the Seas on him, White-liuer'd Runnagate, what doth he there? Stan. I know not, mightie Soueraigne, but by guesse

Rich. Well, as you guesse

Stan. Stirr'd vp by Dorset, Buckingham, and Morton, He makes for England, here to clayme the Crowne

Rich. Is the Chayre emptie? is the Sword vnsway'd? Is the King dead? the Empire vnpossest? What Heire of Yorke is there aliue, but wee? And who is Englands King, but great Yorkes Heire? Then tell me, what makes he vpon the Seas? Stan. Vnlesse for that, my Liege, I cannot guesse

Rich. Vnlesse for that he comes to be your Liege, You cannot guesse wherefore the Welchman comes. Thou wilt reuolt, and flye to him, I feare

Stan. No, my good Lord, therefore mistrust me not

Rich. Where is thy Power then, to beat him back? Where be thy Tenants, and thy followers? Are they not now vpon the Westerne Shore, Safe-conducting the Rebels from their Shippes? Stan. No, my good Lord, my friends are in the North

Rich. Cold friends to me: what do they in the North, When they should serue their Soueraigne in the West? Stan. They haue not been commanded, mighty King: Pleaseth your Maiestie to giue me leaue, Ile muster vp my friends, and meet your Grace, Where, and what time your Maiestie shall please

Rich. I, thou would'st be gone, to ioyne with Richmond: But Ile not trust thee

Stan. Most mightie Soueraigne, You haue no cause to hold my friendship doubtfull, I neuer was, nor neuer will be false

Rich. Goe then, and muster men: but leaue behind Your Sonne George Stanley: looke your heart be firme, Or else his Heads assurance is but fraile

Stan. So deale with him, as I proue true to you.

Exit Stanley.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. My gracious Soueraigne, now in Deuonshire, As I by friends am well aduertised, Sir Edward Courtney, and the haughtie Prelate, Bishop of Exeter, his elder Brother, With many moe Confederates, are in Armes. Enter another Messenger

Mess. In Kent, my Liege, the Guilfords are in Armes, And euery houre more Competitors Flocke to the Rebels, and their power growes strong. Enter another Messenger.

Mess. My Lord, the Armie of great Buckingham

Rich. Out on ye, Owles, nothing but Songs of Death,

He striketh him.

There, take thou that, till thou bring better newes

Mess. The newes I haue to tell your Maiestie, Is, that by sudden Floods, and fall of Waters, Buckinghams Armie is dispers'd and scatter'd, And he himselfe wandred away alone, No man knowes whither

Rich. I cry thee mercie: There is my Purse, to cure that Blow of thine. Hath any well-aduised friend proclaym'd Reward to him that brings the Traytor in? Mess. Such Proclamation hath been made, my Lord. Enter another Messenger.

Mess. Sir Thomas Louell, and Lord Marquesse Dorset, 'Tis said, my Liege, in Yorkeshire are in Armes: But this good comfort bring I to your Highnesse, The Brittaine Nauie is dispers'd by Tempest. Richmond in Dorsetshire sent out a Boat Vnto the shore, to aske those on the Banks, If they were his Assistants, yea, or no? Who answer'd him, they came from Buckingham, Vpon his partie: he mistrusting them, Hoys'd sayle, and made his course againe for Brittaine

Rich. March on, march on, since we are vp in Armes, If not to fight with forraine Enemies, Yet to beat downe these Rebels here at home. Enter Catesby.

Cat. My Liege, the Duke of Buckingham is taken, That is the best newes: that the Earle of Richmond Is with a mighty power Landed at Milford, Is colder Newes, but yet they must be told

Rich. Away towards Salsbury, while we reason here, A Royall battell might be wonne and lost: Some one take order Buckingham be brought To Salsbury, the rest march on with me.

Florish. Exeunt

Scena Quarta.

Enter Derby, and Sir Christopher.

Der. Sir Christopher, tell Richmond this from me, That in the stye of the most deadly Bore, My Sonne George Stanley is frankt vp in hold: If I reuolt, off goes yong Georges head, The feare of that, holds off my present ayde. So get thee gone: commend me to thy Lord. Withall say, that the Queene hath heartily consented He should espouse Elizabeth hir daughter. But tell me, where is Princely Richmond now? Chri. At Penbroke, or at Hertford West in Wales

Der. What men of Name resort to him

Chri. Sir Walter Herbert, a renowned Souldier, Sir Gilbert Talbot, Sir William Stanley, Oxford, redoubted Pembroke, Sir Iames Blunt, And Rice ap Thomas, with a valiant Crew, And many other of great name and worth: And towards London do they bend their power, If by the way they be not fought withall

Der. Well hye thee to thy Lord: I kisse his hand, My Letter will resolue him of my minde. Farewell.

Exeunt.

Actus Quintus. Scena Prima.

Enter Buckingham with Halberds, led to Execution.

Buc. Will not King Richard let me speake with him? Sher. No my good Lord, therefore be patient

Buc. Hastings, and Edwards children, Gray & Riuers, Holy King Henry, and thy faire Sonne Edward, Vaughan, and all that haue miscarried By vnder-hand corrupted foule iniustice, If that your moody discontented soules, Do through the clowds behold this present houre, Euen for reuenge mocke my destruction. This is All-soules day (Fellow) is it not? Sher. It is

Buc. Why then Al-soules day, is my bodies doomsday This is the day, which in King Edwards time I wish'd might fall on me, when I was found False to his Children, and his Wiues Allies. This is the day, wherein I wisht to fall By the false Faith of him whom most I trusted. This, this All-soules day to my fearfull Soule, Is the determin'd respit of my wrongs: That high All-seer, which I dallied with, Hath turn'd my fained Prayer on my head, And giuen in earnest, what I begg'd in iest. Thus doth he force the swords of wicked men To turne their owne points in their Masters bosomes. Thus Margarets curse falles heauy on my necke: When he (quoth she) shall split thy heart with sorrow, Remember Margaret was a Prophetesse: Come leade me Officers to the blocke of shame, Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of blame.

Exeunt. Buckingham with Officers.

Scena Secunda.

Enter Richmond, Oxford, Blunt, Herbert, and others, with drum and colours.

Richm. Fellowes in Armes, and my most louing Frends Bruis'd vnderneath the yoake of Tyranny, Thus farre into the bowels of the Land, Haue we marcht on without impediment; And heere receiue we from our Father Stanley Lines of faire comfort and encouragement: The wretched, bloody, and vsurping Boare, (That spoyl'd your Summer Fields, and fruitfull Vines) Swilles your warm blood like wash, & makes his trough In your embowel'd bosomes: This foule Swine Is now euen in the Centry of this Isle, Ne're to the Towne of Leicester, as we learne: From Tamworth thither, is but one dayes march. In Gods name cheerely on, couragious Friends, To reape the Haruest of perpetuall peace, By this one bloody tryall of sharpe Warre

Oxf. Euery mans Conscience is a thousand men, To fight against this guilty Homicide

Her. I doubt not but his Friends will turne to vs

Blunt. He hath no friends, but what are friends for fear, Which in his deerest neede will flye from him

Richm. All for our vantage, then in Gods name march, True Hope is swift, and flyes with Swallowes wings, Kings it makes Gods, and meaner creatures Kings.

Exeunt. Omnes.

Enter King Richard in Armes with Norfolke, Ratcliffe, and the Earle of Surrey.

Rich. Here pitch our Tent, euen here in Bosworth field, My Lord of Surrey, why looke you so sad? Sur. My heart is ten times lighter then my lookes

Rich. My Lord of Norfolke

Nor. Heere most gracious Liege

Rich. Norfolke, we must haue knockes: Ha, must we not? Nor. We must both giue and take my louing Lord

Rich. Vp with my Tent, heere wil I lye to night, But where to morrow? Well, all's one for that. Who hath descried the number of the Traitors? Nor. Six or seuen thousand is their vtmost power

Rich. Why our Battalia trebbles that account: Besides, the Kings name is a Tower of strength, Which they vpon the aduerse Faction want. Vp with the Tent: Come Noble Gentlemen, Let vs suruey the vantage of the ground. Call for some men of sound direction: Let's lacke no Discipline, make no delay, For Lords, to morrow is a busie day.

Exeunt.

Enter Richmond, Sir William Branden, Oxford, and Dorset.

Richm. The weary Sunne, hath made a Golden set, And by the bright Tract of his fiery Carre, Giues token of a goodly day to morrow. Sir William Brandon, you shall beare my Standard: Giue me some Inke and Paper in my Tent: Ile draw the Forme and Modell of our Battaile, Limit each Leader to his seuerall Charge, And part in iust proportion our small Power. My Lord of Oxford, you Sir William Brandon, And your Sir Walter Herbert stay with me: The Earle of Pembroke keepes his Regiment; Good Captaine Blunt, beare my goodnight to him, And by the second houre in the Morning, Desire the Earle to see me in my Tent: Yet one thing more (good Captaine) do for me: Where is Lord Stanley quarter'd, do you know? Blunt. Vnlesse I haue mistane his Colours much, (Which well I am assur'd I haue not done) His Regiment lies halfe a Mile at least South, from the mighty Power of the King

Richm. If without perill it be possible, Sweet Blunt, make some good meanes to speak with him And giue him from me, this most needfull Note

Blunt. Vpon my life, my Lord, Ile vndertake it, And so God giue you quiet rest to night

Richm. Good night good Captaine Blunt: Come Gentlemen, Let vs consult vpon to morrowes Businesse; Into my Tent, the Dew is rawe and cold.

They withdraw into the Tent.

Enter Richard, Ratcliffe, Norfolke, & Catesby.

Rich. What is't a Clocke? Cat. It's Supper time my Lord, it's nine a clocke

King. I will not sup to night, Giue me some Inke and Paper: What, is my Beauer easier then it was? And all my Armour laid into my Tent? Cat. It is my Liege: and all things are in readinesse

Rich. Good Norfolke, hye thee to thy charge, Vse carefull Watch, choose trusty Centinels, Nor. I go my Lord

Rich. Stir with the Larke to morrow, gentle Norfolk

Nor. I warrant you my Lord.

Exit

Rich. Ratcliffe

Rat. My Lord

Rich. Send out a Pursuiuant at Armes To Stanleys Regiment: bid him bring his power Before Sun-rising, least his Sonne George fall Into the blinde Caue of eternall night. Fill me a Bowle of Wine: Giue me a Watch, Saddle white Surrey for the Field to morrow: Look that my Staues be sound, & not too heauy. Ratcliff

Rat. My Lord

Rich. Saw'st the melancholly Lord Northumberland? Rat. Thomas the Earle of Surrey, and himselfe, Much about Cockshut time, from Troope to Troope Went through the Army, chearing vp the Souldiers

King. So, I am satisfied: Giue me a Bowle of Wine, I haue not that Alacrity of Spirit, Nor cheere of Minde that I was wont to haue. Set it downe. Is Inke and Paper ready? Rat. It is my Lord

Rich. Bid my Guard watch. Leaue me. Ratcliffe, about the mid of night come to my Tent And helpe to arme me. Leaue me I say.

Exit Ratclif.

Enter Derby to Richmond in his Tent.

Der. Fortune, and Victory sit on thy Helme

Rich. All comfort that the darke night can affoord, Be to thy Person, Noble Father in Law. Tell me, how fares our Noble Mother? Der. I by Attourney, blesse thee from thy Mother, Who prayes continually for Richmonds good: So much for that. The silent houres steale on, And flakie darkenesse breakes within the East. In breefe, for so the season bids vs be, Prepare thy Battell early in the Morning, And put thy Fortune to th' Arbitrement Of bloody stroakes, and mortall staring Warre: I, as I may, that which I would, I cannot, With best aduantage will deceiue the time, And ayde thee in this doubtfull shocke of Armes. But on thy side I may not be too forward, Least being seene, thy Brother, tender George Be executed in his Fathers sight. Farewell: the leysure, and the fearfull time Cuts off the ceremonious Vowes of Loue, And ample enterchange of sweet Discourse, Which so long sundred Friends should dwell vpon: God giue vs leysure for these rites of Loue. Once more Adieu, be valiant, and speed well

Richm. Good Lords conduct him to his Regiment: Ile striue with troubled noise, to take a Nap, Lest leaden slumber peize me downe to morrow, When I should mount with wings of Victory: Once more, good night kinde Lords and Gentlemen.

Exeunt. Manet Richmond.

O thou, whose Captaine I account my selfe, Looke on my Forces with a gracious eye: Put in their hands thy bruising Irons of wrath, That they may crush downe with a heauy fall, Th' vsurping Helmets of our Aduersaries: Make vs thy ministers of Chasticement, That we may praise thee in thy victory: To thee I do commend my watchfull soule, Ere I let fall the windowes of mine eyes: Sleeping, and waking, oh defend me still.

Sleeps.

Enter the Ghost of Prince Edward, Sonne to Henry the sixt.

Gh. to Ri[chard]. Let me sit heauy on thy soule to morrow: Thinke how thou stab'st me in my prime of youth At Teukesbury: Dispaire therefore, and dye.

Ghost to Richm[ond].

Be chearefull Richmond, For the wronged Soules Of butcher'd Princes, fight in thy behalfe: King Henries issue Richmond comforts thee. Enter the Ghost of Henry the sixt.

Ghost. When I was mortall, my Annointed body By thee was punched full of holes; Thinke on the Tower, and me: Dispaire, and dye, Harry the sixt, bids thee dispaire, and dye.

To Richm[ond].

Vertuous and holy be thou Conqueror: Harry that prophesied thou should'st be King, Doth comfort thee in sleepe: Liue, and flourish. Enter the Ghost of Clarence.

Ghost. Let me sit heauy in thy soule to morrow. I that was wash'd to death with Fulsome Wine: Poore Clarence by thy guile betray'd to death: To morrow in the battell thinke on me, And fall thy edgelesse Sword, dispaire and dye.

To Richm[ond].

Thou off-spring of the house of Lancaster The wronged heyres of Yorke do pray for thee, Good Angels guard thy battell, Liue and Flourish. Enter the Ghosts of Riuers, Gray, and Vaughan.

Riu. Let me sit heauy in thy soule to morrow, Riuers, that dy'de at Pomfret: dispaire, and dye

Grey. Thinke vpon Grey, and let thy soule dispaire

Vaugh. Thinke vpon Vaughan, and with guilty feare Let fall thy Lance, dispaire and dye.

All to Richm[ond].

Awake, And thinke our wrongs in Richards Bosome, Will conquer him. Awake, and win the day. Enter the Ghost of Lord Hastings.

Gho. Bloody and guilty: guiltily awake, And in a bloody Battell end thy dayes. Thinke on Lord Hastings: dispaire, and dye.

Hast. to Rich[ard].

Quiet vntroubled soule, Awake, awake: Arme, fight, and conquer, for faire Englands sake. Enter the Ghosts of the two yong Princes.

Ghosts. Dreame on thy Cousins Smothered in the Tower: Let vs be laid within thy bosome Richard, And weigh thee downe to ruine, shame, and death, Thy Nephewes soule bids thee dispaire and dye.

Ghosts to Richm[ond].

Sleepe Richmond, Sleepe in Peace, and wake in Ioy, Good Angels guard thee from the Boares annoy, Liue, and beget a happy race of Kings, Edwards vnhappy Sonnes, do bid thee flourish.

Enter the Ghost of Anne, his Wife.

Ghost to Rich[ard].

Richard, thy Wife, That wretched Anne thy Wife, That neuer slept a quiet houre with thee, Now filles thy sleepe with perturbations, To morrow in the Battaile, thinke on me, And fall thy edgelesse Sword, dispaire and dye:

Ghost to Richm[ond].

Thou quiet soule, Sleepe thou a quiet sleepe: Dreame of Successe, and Happy Victory, Thy Aduersaries Wife doth pray for thee. Enter the Ghost of Buckingham.

Ghost to Rich[ard].

The first was I That help'd thee to the Crowne: That last was I that felt thy Tyranny. O, in the Battaile think on Buckingham, And dye in terror of thy guiltinesse. Dreame on, dreame on, of bloody deeds and death, Fainting dispaire; dispairing yeeld thy breath.

Ghost to Richm[ond].

I dyed for hope Ere I could lend thee Ayde; But cheere thy heart, and be thou not dismayde: God, and good Angels fight on Richmonds side, And Richard fall in height of all his pride.

Richard starts out of his dreame.

Rich. Giue me another Horse, bind vp my Wounds: Haue mercy Iesu. Soft, I did but dreame. O coward Conscience? how dost thou afflict me? The Lights burne blew. It is not dead midnight. Cold fearefull drops stand on my trembling flesh. What? do I feare my Selfe? There's none else by, Richard loues Richard, that is, I am I. Is there a Murtherer heere? No; Yes, I am: Then flye; What from my Selfe? Great reason: why? Lest I Reuenge. What? my Selfe vpon my Selfe? Alacke, I loue my Selfe. Wherefore? For any good That I my Selfe, haue done vnto my Selfe? O no. Alas, I rather hate my Selfe, For hatefull Deeds committed by my Selfe. I am a Villaine: yet I Lye, I am not. Foole, of thy Selfe speake well: Foole, do not flatter. My Conscience hath a thousand seuerall Tongues, And euery Tongue brings in a seuerall Tale, And euerie Tale condemnes me for a Villaine; Periurie, in the high'st Degree, Murther, sterne murther, in the dyr'st degree, All seuerall sinnes, all vs'd in each degree, Throng all to'th' Barre, crying all, Guilty, Guilty. I shall dispaire, there is no Creature loues me; And if I die, no soule shall pittie me. Nay, wherefore should they? Since that I my Selfe, Finde in my Selfe, no pittie to my Selfe. Me thought, the Soules of all that I had murther'd Came to my Tent, and euery one did threat To morrowes vengeance on the head of Richard. Enter Ratcliffe.

Rat. My Lord

King. Who's there? Rat. Ratcliffe, my Lord, 'tis I: the early Village Cock Hath twice done salutation to the Morne, Your Friends are vp, and buckle on their Armour

King. O Ratcliffe, I feare, I feare

Rat. Nay good my Lord, be not affraid of Shadows

King. By the Apostle Paul, shadowes to night Haue stroke more terror to the soule of Richard, Then can the substance of ten thousand Souldiers Armed in proofe, and led by shallow Richmond. 'Tis not yet neere day. Come go with me, Vnder our Tents Ile play the Ease-dropper, To heare if any meane to shrinke from me.

Exeunt. Richard & Ratliffe,

Enter the Lords to Richmond sitting in his Tent.

Richm. Good morrow Richmond

Rich. Cry mercy Lords, and watchfull Gentlemen, That you haue tane a tardie sluggard heere? Lords. How haue you slept my Lord? Rich. The sweetest sleepe, And fairest boading Dreames, That euer entred in a drowsie head, Haue I since your departure had my Lords. Me thought their Soules, whose bodies Rich[ard]. murther'd, Came to my Tent, and cried on Victory: I promise you my Heart is very iocond, In the remembrance of so faire a dreame, How farre into the Morning is it Lords? Lor. Vpon the stroke of foure

Rich. Why then 'tis time to Arme, and giue direction.

His Oration to his Souldiers.

More then I haue said, louing Countrymen, The leysure and inforcement of the time Forbids to dwell vpon: yet remember this, God, and our good cause, fight vpon our side, The Prayers of holy Saints and wronged soules, Like high rear'd Bulwarkes, stand before our Faces, (Richard except) those whom we fight against, Had rather haue vs win, then him they follow. For, what is he they follow? Truly Gentlemen, A bloudy Tyrant, and a Homicide: One rais'd in blood, and one in blood establish'd; One that made meanes to come by what he hath, And slaughter'd those that were the meanes to help him: A base foule Stone, made precious by the soyle Of Englands Chaire, where he is falsely set: One that hath euer beene Gods Enemy. Then if you fight against Gods Enemy, God will in iustice ward you as his Soldiers. If you do sweare to put a Tyrant downe, You sleepe in peace, the Tyrant being slaine: If you do fight against your Countries Foes, Your Countries Fat shall pay your paines the hyre. If you do fight in safegard of your wiues, Your wiues shall welcome home the Conquerors. If you do free your Children from the Sword, Your Childrens Children quits it in your Age. Then in the name of God and all these rights, Aduance your Standards, draw your willing Swords. For me, the ransome of my bold attempt, Shall be this cold Corpes on the earth's cold face. But if I thriue, the gaine of my attempt, The least of you shall share his part thereof. Sound Drummes and Trumpets boldly, and cheerefully, God, and Saint George, Richmond, and Victory. Enter King Richard, Ratcliffe, and Catesby.

K. What said Northumberland as touching Richmond? Rat. That he was neuer trained vp in Armes

King. He said the truth: and what said Surrey then? Rat. He smil'd and said, the better for our purpose

King. He was in the right, and so indeed it is. Tell the clocke there.

Clocke strikes.

Giue me a Kalender: Who saw the Sunne to day? Rat. Not I my Lord

King. Then he disdaines to shine: for by the Booke He should haue brau'd the East an houre ago, A blacke day will it be to somebody. Ratcliffe

Rat. My Lord

King. The Sun will not be seene to day, The sky doth frowne, and lowre vpon our Army. I would these dewy teares were from the ground. Not shine to day? Why, what is that to me More then to Richmond? For the selfe-same Heauen That frownes on me, lookes sadly vpon him. Enter Norfolke.

Nor. Arme, arme, my Lord: the foe vaunts in the field

King. Come, bustle, bustle. Caparison my horse. Call vp Lord Stanley, bid him bring his power, I will leade forth my Soldiers to the plaine, And thus my Battell shal be ordred. My Foreward shall be drawne in length, Consisting equally of Horse and Foot: Our Archers shall be placed in the mid'st; Iohn Duke of Norfolke, Thomas Earle of Surrey, Shall haue the leading of the Foot and Horse. They thus directed, we will follow In the maine Battell, whose puissance on either side Shall be well-winged with our cheefest Horse: This, and Saint George to boote. What think'st thou Norfolke

Nor. A good direction warlike Soueraigne, This found I on my Tent this Morning. Iockey of Norfolke, be not so bold, For Dickon thy maister is bought and sold

King. A thing deuised by the Enemy. Go Gentlemen, euery man to his Charge, Let not our babling Dreames affright our soules: For Conscience is a word that Cowards vse, Deuis'd at first to keepe the strong in awe, Our strong armes be our Conscience, Swords our Law. March on, ioyne brauely, let vs too't pell mell, If not to heauen, then hand in hand to Hell. What shall I say more then I haue inferr'd? Remember whom you are to cope withall, A sort of Vagabonds, Rascals, and Run-awayes, A scum of Brittaines, and base Lackey Pezants, Whom their o're-cloyed Country vomits forth To desperate Aduentures, and assur'd Destruction. You sleeping safe, they bring you to vnrest: You hauing Lands, and blest with beauteous wiues, They would restraine the one, distaine the other, And who doth leade them, but a paltry Fellow? Long kept in Britaine at our Mothers cost, A Milke-sop, one that neuer in his life Felt so much cold, as ouer shooes in Snow: Let's whip these straglers o're the Seas againe, Lash hence these ouer-weening Ragges of France, These famish'd Beggers, weary of their liues, Who (but for dreaming on this fond exploit) For want of meanes (poore Rats) had hang'd themselues. If we be conquered, let men conquer vs, And not these bastard Britaines, whom our Fathers Haue in their owne Land beaten, bobb'd, and thump'd, And on Record, left them the heires of shame. Shall these enioy our Lands? lye with our Wiues? Rauish our daughters?

Drum afarre off

Hearke, I heare their Drumme, Right Gentlemen of England, fight boldly yeomen, Draw Archers draw your Arrowes to the head, Spurre your proud Horses hard, and ride in blood, Amaze the welkin with your broken staues. Enter a Messenger.

What sayes Lord Stanley, will he bring his power? Mes. My Lord, he doth deny to come

King. Off with his sonne Georges head

Nor. My Lord, the Enemy is past the Marsh: After the battaile, let George Stanley dye

King. A thousand hearts are great within my bosom. Aduance our Standards, set vpon our Foes, Our Ancient word of Courage, faire S[aint]. George Inspire vs with the spleene of fiery Dragons: Vpon them, Victorie sits on our helpes.

Alarum, excursions. Enter Catesby.

Cat. Rescue my Lord of Norfolke, Rescue, Rescue: The King enacts more wonders then a man, Daring an opposite to euery danger: His horse is slaine, and all on foot he fights, Seeking for Richmond in the throat of death: Rescue faire Lord, or else the day is lost.

Alarums.

Enter Richard.

Rich. A Horse, a Horse, my Kingdome for a Horse

Cates. Withdraw my Lord, Ile helpe you to a Horse Rich. Slaue, I haue set my life vpon a cast, And I will stand the hazard of the Dye: I thinke there be sixe Richmonds in the field, Fiue haue I slaine to day, in stead of him. A Horse, a Horse, my Kingdome for a Horse.

Alarum, Enter Richard and Richmond, they fight, Richard is slaine.

Retreat, and Flourish. Enter Richmond, Derby bearing the Crowne, with diuers other Lords.

Richm. God, and your Armes Be prais'd Victorious Friends; The day is ours, the bloudy Dogge is dead

Der. Couragious Richmond, Well hast thou acquit thee: Loe, Heere these long vsurped Royalties, From the dead Temples of this bloudy Wretch, Haue I pluck'd off, to grace thy Browes withall. Weare it, and make much of it

Richm. Great God of Heauen, say Amen to all. But tell me, is yong George Stanley liuing? Der. He is my Lord, and safe in Leicester Towne, Whither (if you please) we may withdraw vs

Richm. What men of name are slaine on either side? Der. Iohn Duke of Norfolke, Walter Lord Ferris, Sir Robert Brokenbury, and Sir William Brandon

Richm. Interre their Bodies, as become their Births, Proclaime a pardon to the Soldiers fled, That in submission will returne to vs, And then as we haue tane the Sacrament, We will vnite the White Rose, and the Red. Smile Heauen vpon this faire Coniunction, That long haue frown'd vpon their Enmity: What Traitor heares me, and sayes not Amen? England hath long beene mad, and scarr'd her selfe; The Brother blindely shed the Brothers blood; The Father, rashly slaughtered his owne Sonne; The Sonne compell'd, beene Butcher to the Sire; All this diuided Yorke and Lancaster, Diuided, in their dire Diuision. O now, let Richmond and Elizabeth, The true Succeeders of each Royall House, By Gods faire ordinance, conioyne together: And let thy Heires (God if thy will be so) Enrich the time to come, with Smooth-fac'd Peace, With smiling Plenty, and faire Prosperous dayes. Abate the edge of Traitors, Gracious Lord, That would reduce these bloudy dayes againe, And make poore England weepe in Streames of Blood; Let them not liue to taste this Lands increase, That would with Treason, wound this faire Lands peace. Now Ciuill wounds are stopp'd, Peace liues agen; That she may long liue heere, God say, Amen.

Exeunt.

FINIS. The Tragedy of Richard the Third: with the Landing of Earle Richmond, and the Battell at Bosworth Field.

The Famous History of the Life of King Henry the Eight

THE PROLOGVE.

I Come no more to make you laugh, Things now, That beare a Weighty, and a Serious Brow, Sad, high, and working, full of State and Woe: Such Noble Scoenes, as draw the Eye to flow We now present. Those that can Pitty, heere May (if they thinke it well) let fall a Teare, The Subiect will deserue it. Such as giue Their Money out of hope they may beleeue, May heere finde Truth too. Those that come to see Onely a show or two, and so agree, The Play may passe: If they be still, and willing, Ile vndertake may see away their shilling Richly in two short houres. Onely they That come to heare a Merry, Bawdy Play, A noyse of Targets: Or to see a Fellow In a long Motley Coate, garded with Yellow, Will be deceyu'd. For gentle Hearers, know To ranke our chosen Truth with such a show As Foole, and Fight is, beside forfeyting Our owne Braines, and the Opinion that we bring To make that onely true, we now intend, Will leaue vs neuer an vnderstanding Friend. Therefore, for Goodnesse sake, and as you are knowne The First and Happiest Hearers of the Towne, Be sad, as we would make ye. Thinke ye see The very Persons of our Noble Story, As they were Liuing: Thinke you see them Great, And follow'd with the generall throng, and sweat Of thousand Friends: Then, in a moment, see How soone this Mightinesse, meets Misery: And if you can be merry then, Ile say, A Man may weepe vpon his Wedding day.

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

Enter the Duke of Norfolke at one doore. At the other, the Duke of Buckingham, and the Lord Aburgauenny.

Buckingham. Good morrow, and well met. How haue ye done Since last we saw in France? Norf. I thanke your Grace: Healthfull, and euer since a fresh Admirer Of what I saw there

Buck. An vntimely Ague Staid me a Prisoner in my Chamber, when Those Sunnes of Glory, those two Lights of Men Met in the vale of Andren

Nor. 'Twixt Guynes and Arde, I was then present, saw them salute on Horsebacke, Beheld them when they lighted, how they clung In their Embracement, as they grew together, Which had they, What foure Thron'd ones could haue weigh'd Such a compounded one? Buck. All the whole time I was my Chambers Prisoner

Nor. Then you lost The view of earthly glory: Men might say Till this time Pompe was single, but now married To one aboue it selfe. Each following day Became the next dayes master, till the last Made former Wonders, it's. To day the French, All Clinquant all in Gold, like Heathen Gods Shone downe the English; and to morrow, they Made Britaine, India: Euery man that stood, Shew'd like a Mine. Their Dwarfish Pages were As Cherubins, all gilt: the Madams too, Not vs'd to toyle, did almost sweat to beare The Pride vpon them, that their very labour Was to them, as a Painting. Now this Maske Was cry'de incompareable; and th' ensuing night Made it a Foole, and Begger. The two Kings Equall in lustre, were now best, now worst As presence did present them: Him in eye, Still him in praise, and being present both, 'Twas said they saw but one, and no Discerner Durst wagge his Tongue in censure, when these Sunnes (For so they phrase 'em) by their Heralds challeng'd The Noble Spirits to Armes, they did performe Beyond thoughts Compasse, that former fabulous Storie Being now seene, possible enough, got credit That Beuis was beleeu'd

Buc. Oh you go farre

Nor. As I belong to worship, and affect In Honor, Honesty, the tract of eu'ry thing, Would by a good Discourser loose some life, Which Actions selfe, was tongue too

Buc. All was Royall, To the disposing of it nought rebell'd, Order gaue each thing view. The Office did Distinctly his full Function: who did guide, I meane who set the Body, and the Limbes Of this great Sport together? Nor. As you guesse: One certes, that promises no Element In such a businesse

Buc. I pray you who, my Lord? Nor. All this was ordred by the good Discretion Of the right Reuerend Cardinall of Yorke

Buc. The diuell speed him: No mans Pye is freed From his Ambitious finger. What had he To do in these fierce Vanities? I wonder, That such a Keech can with his very bulke Take vp the Rayes o'th' beneficiall Sun, And keepe it from the Earth

Nor. Surely Sir, There's in him stuffe, that put's him to these ends: For being not propt by Auncestry, whose grace Chalkes Successors their way; nor call'd vpon For high feats done to'th' Crowne; neither Allied To eminent Assistants; but Spider-like Out of his Selfe-drawing Web. O giues vs note, The force of his owne merit makes his way A guift that heauen giues for him, which buyes A place next to the King

Abur. I cannot tell What Heauen hath giuen him: let some Grauer eye Pierce into that, but I can see his Pride Peepe through each part of him: whence ha's he that, If not from Hell? The Diuell is a Niggard, Or ha's giuen all before, and he begins A new Hell in himselfe

Buc. Why the Diuell, Vpon this French going out, tooke he vpon him (Without the priuity o'th' King) t' appoint Who should attend on him? He makes vp the File Of all the Gentry; for the most part such To whom as great a Charge, as little Honor He meant to lay vpon: and his owne Letter The Honourable Boord of Councell, out Must fetch him in, he Papers

Abur. I do know Kinsmen of mine, three at the least, that haue By this, so sicken'd their Estates, that neuer They shall abound as formerly

Buc. O many Haue broke their backes with laying Mannors on 'em For this great Iourney. What did this vanity But minister communication of A most poore issue

Nor. Greeuingly I thinke, The Peace betweene the French and vs, not valewes The Cost that did conclude it

Buc. Euery man, After the hideous storme that follow'd, was A thing Inspir'd, and not consulting, broke Into a generall Prophesie; That this Tempest Dashing the Garment of this Peace, aboaded The sodaine breach on't

Nor. Which is budded out, For France hath flaw'd the League, and hath attach'd Our Merchants goods at Burdeux

Abur. Is it therefore Th' Ambassador is silenc'd? Nor. Marry is't

Abur. A proper Title of a Peace, and purchas'd At a superfluous rate

Buc. Why all this Businesse Our Reuerend Cardinall carried

Nor. Like it your Grace, The State takes notice of the priuate difference Betwixt you, and the Cardinall. I aduise you (And take it from a heart, that wishes towards you Honor, and plenteous safety) that you reade The Cardinals Malice, and his Potency Together; To consider further, that What his high Hatred would effect, wants not A Minister in his Power. You know his Nature, That he's Reuengefull; and I know, his Sword Hath a sharpe edge: It's long, and't may be saide It reaches farre, and where 'twill not extend, Thither he darts it. Bosome vp my counsell, You'l finde it wholesome. Loe, where comes that Rock That I aduice your shunning. Enter Cardinall Wolsey, the Purse borne before him, certaine of the Guard, and two Secretaries with Papers: The Cardinall in his passage, fixeth his eye on Buckingham, and Buckingham on him, both full of disdaine.

Car. The Duke of Buckinghams Surueyor? Ha? Where's his Examination? Secr. Heere so please you

Car. Is he in person, ready? Secr. I, please your Grace

Car. Well, we shall then know more, & Buckingham Shall lessen this bigge looke.

Exeunt. Cardinall, and his Traine.

Buc. This Butchers Curre is venom'd-mouth'd, and I Haue not the power to muzzle him, therefore best Not wake him in his slumber. A Beggers booke, Out-worths a Nobles blood

Nor. What are you chaff'd? Aske God for Temp'rance, that's th' appliance onely Which your disease requires

Buc. I read in's looks Matter against me, and his eye reuil'd Me as his abiect obiect, at this instant He bores me with some tricke; He's gone to'th' King: Ile follow, and out-stare him

Nor. Stay my Lord, And let your Reason with your Choller question What 'tis you go about: to climbe steepe hilles Requires slow pace at first. Anger is like A full hot Horse, who being allow'd his way Selfe-mettle tyres him: Not a man in England Can aduise me like you: Be to your selfe, As you would to your Friend

Buc. Ile to the King, And from a mouth of Honor, quite cry downe This Ipswich fellowes insolence; or proclaime, There's difference in no persons

Norf. Be aduis'd; Heat not a Furnace for your foe so hot That it do sindge your selfe. We may out-runne By violent swiftnesse that which we run at; And lose by ouer-running: know you not, The fire that mounts the liquor til't run ore, In seeming to augment it, wasts it: be aduis'd; I say againe there is no English Soule More stronger to direct you then your selfe; If with the sap of reason you would quench, Or but allay the fire of passion

Buck. Sir, I am thankfull to you, and Ile goe along By your prescription: but this top-proud fellow, Whom from the flow of gall I name not, but From sincere motions, by Intelligence, And proofes as cleere as Founts in Iuly, when Wee see each graine of grauell; I doe know To be corrupt and treasonous

Norf. Say not treasonous

Buck. To th' King Ile say't, & make my vouch as strong As shore of Rocke: attend. This holy Foxe, Or Wolfe, or both (for he is equall rau'nous As he is subtile, and as prone to mischiefe, As able to perform't) his minde, and place Infecting one another, yea reciprocally, Only to shew his pompe, as well in France, As here at home, suggests the King our Master To this last costly Treaty: Th' enteruiew, That swallowed so much treasure, and like a glasse Did breake ith' wrenching

Norf. Faith, and so it did

Buck. Pray giue me fauour Sir: This cunning Cardinall The Articles o'th' Combination drew As himselfe pleas'd; and they were ratified As he cride thus let be, to as much end, As giue a Crutch to th' dead. But our Count-Cardinall Has done this, and tis well: for worthy Wolsey (Who cannot erre) he did it. Now this followes, (Which as I take it, is a kinde of Puppie To th' old dam Treason) Charles the Emperour, Vnder pretence to see the Queene his Aunt, (For twas indeed his colour, but he came To whisper Wolsey) here makes visitation, His feares were that the Interview betwixt England and France, might through their amity Breed him some preiudice; for from this League, Peep'd harmes that menac'd him. Priuily Deales with our Cardinal, and as I troa Which I doe well; for I am sure the Emperour Paid ere he promis'd, whereby his Suit was granted Ere it was ask'd. But when the way was made And pau'd with gold: the Emperor thus desir'd, That he would please to alter the Kings course, And breake the foresaid peace. Let the King know (As soone he shall by me) that thus the Cardinall Does buy and sell his Honour as he pleases, And for his owne aduantage

Norf. I am sorry To heare this of him; and could wish he were Somthing mistaken in't

Buck. No, not a sillable: I doe pronounce him in that very shape He shall appeare in proofe. Enter Brandon, a Sergeant at Armes before him, and two or three of the Guard.

Brandon. Your Office Sergeant: execute it

Sergeant. Sir, My Lord the Duke of Buckingham, and Earle Of Hertford, Stafford and Northampton, I Arrest thee of High Treason, in the name Of our most Soueraigne King

Buck. Lo you my Lord, The net has falne vpon me, I shall perish Vnder deuice, and practise

Bran. I am sorry, To see you tane from liberty, to looke on The busines present. Tis his Highnes pleasure You shall to th' Tower

Buck. It will helpe me nothing To plead mine Innocence; for that dye is on me Which makes my whit'st part, black. The will of Heau'n Be done in this and all things: I obey. O my Lord Aburgany: Fare you well

Bran. Nay, he must beare you company. The King Is pleas'd you shall to th' Tower, till you know How he determines further

Abur. As the Duke said, The will of Heauen be done, and the Kings pleasure By me obey'd

Bran. Here is a warrant from The King, t' attach Lord Mountacute, and the Bodies Of the Dukes Confessor, Iohn de la Car, One Gilbert Pecke, his Councellour

Buck. So, so; These are the limbs o'th' Plot: no more I hope

Bra. A Monke o'th' Chartreux

Buck. O Michaell Hopkins? Bra. He

Buck. My Surueyor is falce: The oregreat Cardinall Hath shew'd him gold; my life is spand already: I am the shadow of poore Buckingham, Whose Figure euen this instant Clowd puts on, By Darkning my cleere Sunne. My Lords farewell.

Exe.

Scena Secunda.

Cornets. Enter King Henry, leaning on the Cardinals shoulder, the Nobles, and Sir Thomas Louell: the Cardinall places himselfe vnder the Kings feete on his right side.

King. My life it selfe, and the best heart of it, Thankes you for this great care: I stood i'th' leuell Of a full-charg'd confederacie, and giue thankes To you that choak'd it. Let be cald before vs That Gentleman of Buckinghams, in person, Ile heare him his confessions iustifie, And point by point the Treasons of his Maister, He shall againe relate.

A noyse within crying roome for the Queene, vsher'd by the Duke of Norfolke. Enter the Queene, Norfolke and Suffolke: she kneels. King riseth from his State, takes her vp, kisses and placeth her by him.

Queen. Nay, we must longer kneele; I am a Suitor

King. Arise, and take place by vs; halfe your Suit Neuer name to vs; you haue halfe our power: The other moity ere you aske is giuen, Repeat your will, and take it

Queen. Thanke your Maiesty That you would loue your selfe, and in that loue Not vnconsidered leaue your Honour, nor The dignity of your Office; is the poynt Of my Petition

Kin. Lady mine proceed

Queen. I am solicited not by a few, And those of true condition; That your Subiects Are in great grieuance: There haue beene Commissions Sent downe among 'em, which hath flaw'd the heart Of all their Loyalties; wherein, although My good Lord Cardinall, they vent reproches Most bitterly on you, as putter on Of these exactions: yet the King, our Maister Whose Honor Heauen shield from soile; euen he escapes not Language vnmannerly; yea, such which breakes The sides of loyalty, and almost appeares In lowd Rebellion

Norf. Not almost appeares, It doth appeare; for, vpon these Taxations, The Clothiers all not able to maintaine The many to them longing, haue put off The Spinsters, Carders, Fullers, Weauers, who Vnfit for other life, compeld by hunger And lack of other meanes, in desperate manner Daring th' euent too th' teeth, are all in vprore, And danger serues among them

Kin. Taxation? Wherein? and what Taxation? My Lord Cardinall, You that are blam'd for it alike with vs, Know you of this Taxation? Card. Please you Sir, I know but of a single part in ought Pertaines to th' State; and front but in that File Where others tell steps with me

Queen. No, my Lord? You know no more then others? But you frame Things that are knowne alike, which are not wholsome To those which would not know them, and yet must Perforce be their acquaintance. These exactions (Whereof my Soueraigne would haue note) they are Most pestilent to th' hearing, and to beare 'em, The Backe is Sacrifice to th' load; They say They are deuis'd by you, or else you suffer Too hard an exclamation

Kin. Still Exaction: The nature of it, in what kinde let's know, Is this Exaction? Queen. I am much too venturous In tempting of your patience, but am boldned Vnder your promis'd pardon. The Subiects griefe Comes through Commissions, which compels from each The sixt part of his Substance, to be leuied Without delay; and the pretence for this Is nam'd, your warres in France: this makes bold mouths, Tongues spit their duties out, and cold hearts freeze Allegeance in them; their curses now Liue where their prayers did: and it's come to passe, This tractable obedience is a Slaue To each incensed Will: I would your Highnesse Would giue it quicke consideration; for There is no primer basenesse

Kin. By my life, This is against our pleasure

Card. And for me, I haue no further gone in this, then by A single voice, and that not past me, but By learned approbation of the Iudges: If I am Traduc'd by ignorant Tongues, which neither know My faculties nor person, yet will be The Chronicles of my doing: Let me say, 'Tis but the fate of Place, and the rough Brake That Vertue must goe through: we must not stint Our necessary actions, in the feare To cope malicious Censurers, which euer, As rau'nous Fishes doe a Vessell follow That is new trim'd; but benefit no further Then vainly longing. What we oft doe best, By sicke Interpreters (once weake ones) is Not ours, or not allow'd; what worst, as oft Hitting a grosser quality, is cride vp For our best Act: if we shall stand still, In feare our motion will be mock'd, or carp'd at, We should take roote here, where we sit; Or sit State-Statues onely

Kin. Things done well, And with a care, exempt themselues from feare: Things done without example, in their issue Are to be fear'd. Haue you a President Of this Commission? I beleeue, not any. We must not rend our Subiects from our Lawes, And sticke them in our Will. Sixt part of each? A trembling Contribution; why we take From euery Tree, lop, barke, and part o'th' Timber: And though we leaue it with a roote thus hackt, The Ayre will drinke the Sap. To euery County Where this is question'd, send our Letters, with Free pardon to each man that has deny'de The force of this Commission: pray looke too't; I put it to your care

Card. A word with you. Let there be Letters writ to euery Shire, Of the Kings grace and pardon: the greeued Commons Hardly conceiue of me. Let it be nois'd, That through our Intercession, this Reuokement And pardon comes: I shall anon aduise you Further in the proceeding.

Exit Secret[ary].

Enter Surueyor.

Queen. I am sorry, that the Duke of Buckingham Is run in your displeasure

Kin. It grieues many: The Gentleman is Learn'd, and a most rare Speaker, To Nature none more bound; his trayning such, That he may furnish and instruct great Teachers, And neuer seeke for ayd out of himselfe: yet see, When these so Noble benefits shall proue Not well dispos'd, the minde growing once corrupt, They turne to vicious formes, ten times more vgly Then euer they were faire. This man so compleat, Who was enrold 'mongst wonders; and when we Almost with rauish'd listning, could not finde His houre of speech, a minute: He, (my Lady) Hath into monstrous habits put the Graces That once were his, and is become as blacke, As if besmear'd in hell. Sit by Vs, you shall heare (This was his Gentleman in trust) of him Things to strike Honour sad. Bid him recount The fore-recited practises, whereof We cannot feele too little, heare too much

Card. Stand forth, & with bold spirit relate what you Most like a carefull Subiect haue collected Out of the Duke of Buckingham

Kin. Speake freely

Sur. First, it was vsuall with him; euery day It would infect his Speech: That if the King Should without issue dye; hee'l carry it so To make the Scepter his. These very words I'ue heard him vtter to his Sonne in Law, Lord Aburgany, to whom by oth he menac'd Reuenge vpon the Cardinall

Card. Please your Highnesse note This dangerous conception in this point, Not frended by his wish to your High person; His will is most malignant, and it stretches Beyond you to your friends

Queen. My learn'd Lord Cardinall, Deliuer all with Charity

Kin. Speake on; How grounded hee his Title to the Crowne Vpon our faile; to this poynt hast thou heard him, At any time speake ought? Sur. He was brought to this, By a vaine Prophesie of Nicholas Henton

Kin. What was that Henton? Sur. Sir, a Chartreux Fryer, His Confessor, who fed him euery minute With words of Soueraignty

Kin. How know'st thou this? Sur. Not long before your Highnesse sped to France, The Duke being at the Rose, within the Parish Saint Laurence Poultney, did of me demand What was the speech among the Londoners, Concerning the French Iourney. I replide, Men feare the French would proue perfidious To the Kings danger: presently, the Duke Said, 'twas the feare indeed, and that he doubted 'Twould proue the verity of certaine words Spoke by a holy Monke, that oft, sayes he, Hath sent to me, wishing me to permit Iohn de la Car, my Chaplaine, a choyce howre To heare from him a matter of some moment: Whom after vnder the Commissions Seale, He sollemnly had sworne, that what he spoke My Chaplaine to no Creature liuing, but To me, should vtter, with demure Confidence, This pausingly ensu'de; neither the King, nor's Heyres (Tell you the Duke) shall prosper, bid him striue To the loue o'th' Commonalty, the Duke Shall gouerne England

Queen. If I know you well, You were the Dukes Surueyor, and lost your Office On the complaint o'th' Tenants; take good heed You charge not in your spleene a Noble person, And spoyle your nobler Soule; I say, take heed; Yes, heartily beseech you

Kin. Let him on: Goe forward

Sur. On my Soule, Ile speake but truth. I told my Lord the Duke, by th' Diuels illusions The Monke might be deceiu'd, and that 'twas dangerous For this to ruminate on this so farre, vntill It forg'd him some designe, which being beleeu'd It was much like to doe: He answer'd, Tush, It can do me no damage; adding further, That had the King in his last Sicknesse faild, The Cardinals and Sir Thomas Louels heads Should haue gone off

Kin. Ha? What, so rancke? Ah, ha, There's mischiefe in this man; canst thou say further? Sur. I can my Liedge

Kin. Proceed

Sur. Being at Greenwich, After your Highnesse had reprou'd the Duke About Sir William Blumer

Kin. I remember of such a time, being my sworn seruant, The Duke retein'd him his. But on: what hence? Sur. If (quoth he) I for this had beene committed, As to the Tower, I thought; I would haue plaid The Part my Father meant to act vpon Th' Vsurper Richard, who being at Salsbury, Made suit to come in's presence; which if granted, (As he made semblance of his duty) would Haue put his knife into him

Kin. A Gyant Traytor

Card. Now Madam, may his Highnes liue in freedome, And this man out of Prison

Queen. God mend all

Kin. Ther's somthing more would out of thee; what say'st? Sur. After the Duke his Father, with the knife He stretch'd him, and with one hand on his dagger, Another spread on's breast, mounting his eyes, He did discharge a horrible Oath, whose tenor Was, were he euill vs'd, he would outgoe His Father, by as much as a performance Do's an irresolute purpose

Kin. There's his period, To sheath his knife in vs: he is attach'd, Call him to present tryall: if he may Finde mercy in the Law, 'tis his; if none, Let him not seek't of vs: By day and night Hee's Traytor to th' height.

Exeunt.

Scaena Tertia.

L.Ch. Is't possible the spels of France should iuggle Men into such strange mysteries? L.San. New customes, Though they be neuer so ridiculous, (Nay let 'em be vnmanly) yet are follow'd

L.Ch. As farre as I see, all the good our English Haue got by the late Voyage, is but meerely A fit or two o'th' face, (but they are shrewd ones) For when they hold 'em, you would sweare directly Their very noses had been Councellours To Pepin or Clotharius, they keepe State so

L.San. They haue all new legs, And lame ones; one would take it, That neuer see 'em pace before, the Spauen A Spring-halt rain'd among 'em

L.Ch. Death my Lord, Their cloathes are after such a Pagan cut too't, That sure th'haue worne out Christendome: how now? What newes, Sir Thomas Louell? Enter Sir Thomas Louell.

Louell. Faith my Lord, I heare of none but the new Proclamation, That's clapt vpon the Court Gate

L.Cham. What is't for? Lou. The reformation of our trauel'd Gallants, That fill the Court with quarrels, talke, and Taylors

L.Cham. I'm glad 'tis there; Now I would pray our Monsieurs To thinke an English Courtier may be wise, And neuer see the Louure

Lou. They must either (For so run the Conditions) leaue those remnants Of Foole and Feather, that they got in France, With all their honourable points of ignorance Pertaining thereunto; as Fights and Fire-workes, Abusing better men then they can be Out of a forreigne wisedome, renouncing cleane The faith they haue in Tennis and tall Stockings, Short blistred Breeches, and those types of Trauell; And vnderstand againe like honest men, Or pack to their old Playfellowes; there, I take it, They may Cum Priuilegio, wee away The lag end of their lewdnesse, and be laugh'd at

L.San. Tis time to giue 'em Physicke, their diseases Are growne so catching

L.Cham. What a losse our Ladies Will haue of these trim vanities? Louell. I marry, There will be woe indeed Lords, the slye whorsons Haue got a speeding tricke to lay downe Ladies. A French Song, and a Fiddle, ha's no Fellow

L.San. The Diuell fiddle 'em, I am glad they are going, For sure there's no conuerting of 'em: now An honest Country Lord as I am, beaten A long time out of play, may bring his plaine song, And haue an houre of hearing, and by'r Lady Held currant Musicke too

L.Cham. Well said Lord Sands, Your Colts tooth is not cast yet? L.San. No my Lord, Nor shall not while I haue a stumpe

L.Cham. Sir Thomas, Whither were you a going? Lou. To the Cardinals; Your Lordship is a guest too

L.Cham. O, 'tis true; This night he makes a Supper, and a great one, To many Lords and Ladies; there will be The Beauty of this Kingdome Ile assure you

Lou. That Churchman Beares a bounteous minde indeed, A hand as fruitfull as the Land that feeds vs, His dewes fall euery where

L.Cham. No doubt hee's Noble; He had a blacke mouth that said other of him

L.San. He may my Lord, Ha's wherewithall in him; Sparing would shew a worse sinne, then ill Doctrine, Men of his way, should be most liberall, They are set heere for examples

L.Cham. True, they are so; But few now giue so great ones: My Barge stayes; Your Lordship shall along: Come, good Sir Thomas, We shall be late else, which I would not be, For I was spoke to, with Sir Henry Guilford This night to be Comptrollers

L.San. I am your Lordships.

Exeunt.

Scena Quarta.

Hoboies. A small Table vnder a State for the Cardinall, a longer Table for the Guests. Then Enter Anne Bullen, and diuers other Ladies, & Gentlemen, as Guests at one Doore; at an other Doore enter Sir Henry Guilford.

S.Hen.Guilf. Ladyes, A generall welcome from his Grace Salutes ye all; This Night he dedicates To faire content, and you: None heere he hopes In all this Noble Beuy, has brought with her One care abroad: hee would haue all as merry: As first, good Company, good wine, good welcome, Can make good people. Enter L[ord]. Chamberlaine L[ord]. Sands, and Louell.

O my Lord, y'are tardy; The very thought of this faire Company, Clapt wings to me

Cham. You are young Sir Harry Guilford

San. Sir Thomas Louell, had the Cardinall But halfe my Lay-thoughts in him, some of these Should finde a running Banket, ere they rested, I thinke would better please 'em: by my life, They are a sweet society of faire ones

Lou. O that your Lordship were but now Confessor, To one or two of these

San. I would I were, They should finde easie pennance

Lou. Faith how easie? San. As easie as a downe bed would affoord it

Cham. Sweet Ladies will it please you sit; Sir Harry Place you that side, Ile take the charge of this: His Grace is entring. Nay, you must not freeze, Two women plac'd together, makes cold weather: My Lord Sands, you are one will keepe 'em waking: Pray sit betweene these Ladies

San. By my faith, And thanke your Lordship: by your leaue sweet Ladies, If I chance to talke a little wilde, forgiue me: I had it from my Father

An.Bul. Was he mad Sir? San. O very mad, exceeding mad, in loue too; But he would bite none, iust as I doe now, He would Kisse you Twenty with a breath

Cham. Well said my Lord: So now y'are fairely seated: Gentlemen, The pennance lyes on you; if these faire Ladies Passe away frowning

San. For my little Cure, Let me alone.

Hoboyes. Enter Cardinall Wolsey, and takes his State.

Card. Y'are welcome my faire Guests; that noble Lady Or Gentleman that is not freely merry Is not my Friend. This to confirme my welcome, And to you all good health

San. Your Grace is Noble, Let me haue such a Bowle may hold my thankes, And saue me so much talking

Card. My Lord Sands, I am beholding to you: cheere your neighbours: Ladies you are not merry; Gentlemen, Whose fault is this? San. The red wine first must rise In their faire cheekes my Lord, then wee shall haue 'em, Talke vs to silence

An.B. You are a merry Gamster My Lord Sands

San. Yes, if I make my play: Heer's to your Ladiship, and pledge it Madam: For tis to such a thing

An.B. You cannot shew me.

Drum and Trumpet, Chambers dischargd.

San. I told your Grace, they would talke anon

Card. What's that? Cham. Looke out there, some of ye

Card. What warlike voyce, And to what end is this? Nay, Ladies, feare not; By all the lawes of Warre y'are priuiledg'd. Enter a Seruant.

Cham. How now, what is't? Seru. A noble troupe of Strangers, For so they seeme; th' haue left their Barge and landed, And hither make, as great Embassadors From forraigne Princes

Card. Good Lord Chamberlaine, Go, giue 'em welcome; you can speake the French tongue And pray receiue 'em Nobly, and conduct 'em Into our presence, where this heauen of beauty Shall shine at full vpon them. Some attend him.

All rise, and Tables remou'd.

You haue now a broken Banket, but wee'l mend it. A good digestion to you all; and once more I showre a welcome on yee: welcome all.

Hoboyes. Enter King and others as Maskers, habited like Shepheards, vsher'd by the Lord Chamberlaine. They passe directly before the Cardinall and gracefully salute him.

A noble Company: what are their pleasures? Cham. Because they speak no English, thus they praid To tell your Grace: That hauing heard by fame Of this so Noble and so faire assembly, This night to meet heere they could doe no lesse, (Out of the great respect they beare to beauty) But leaue their Flockes, and vnder your faire Conduct Craue leaue to view these Ladies, and entreat An houre of Reuels with 'em

Card. Say, Lord Chamberlaine, They haue done my poore house grace: For which I pay 'em a thousand thankes, And pray 'em take their pleasures.

Choose Ladies, King and An Bullen.

King. The fairest hand I euer touch'd: O Beauty, Till now I neuer knew thee.

Musicke, Dance.

Card. My Lord

Cham. Your Grace

Card. Pray tell 'em thus much from me: There should be one amongst 'em by his person More worthy this place then my selfe, to whom (If I but knew him) with my loue and duty I would surrender it.

Whisper.

Cham. I will my Lord

Card. What say they? Cham. Such a one, they all confesse There is indeed, which they would haue your Grace Find out, and he will take it

Card. Let me see then, By all your good leaues Gentlemen; heere Ile make My royall choyce

Kin. Ye haue found him Cardinall, You hold a faire Assembly; you doe well Lord: You are a Churchman, or Ile tell you Cardinall, I should iudge now vnhappily

Card. I am glad Your Grace is growne so pleasant

Kin. My Lord Chamberlaine, Prethee come hither, what faire Ladie's that? Cham. An't please your Grace, Sir Thomas Bullens Daughter, the Viscount Rochford, One of her Highnesse women

Kin. By Heauen she is a dainty one. Sweet heart, I were vnmannerly to take you out, And not to kisse you. A health Gentlemen, Let it goe round

Card. Sir Thomas Louell, is the Banket ready I'th' Priuy Chamber? Lou. Yes, my Lord

Card. Your Grace I feare, with dancing is a little heated

Kin. I feare too much

Card. There's fresher ayre my Lord, In the next Chamber

Kin. Lead in your Ladies eu'ry one: Sweet Partner, I must not yet forsake you: Let's be merry, Good my Lord Cardinall: I haue halfe a dozen healths, To drinke to these faire Ladies, and a measure To lead 'em once againe, and then let's dreame Who's best in fauour. Let the Musicke knock it.

Exeunt. with Trumpets.

Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.

Enter two Gentlemen at seuerall Doores.

1. Whether away so fast? 2. O, God saue ye: Eu'n to the Hall, to heare what shall become Of the great Duke of Buckingham

1. Ile saue you That labour Sir. All's now done but the Ceremony Of bringing backe the Prisoner

2. Were you there ? 1. Yes indeed was I

2. Pray speake what ha's happen'd

1. You may guesse quickly what

2. Is he found guilty? 1. Yes truely is he, And condemn'd vpon't

2. I am sorry fort

1. So are a number more

2. But pray how past it? 1. Ile tell you in a little. The great Duke Came to the Bar; where, to his accusations He pleaded still not guilty, and alleadged Many sharpe reasons to defeat the Law. The Kings Atturney on the contrary, Vrg'd on the Examinations, proofes, confessions Of diuers witnesses, which the Duke desir'd To him brought viua voce to his face; At which appear'd against him, his Surueyor Sir Gilbert Pecke his Chancellour, and Iohn Car, Confessor to him, with that Diuell Monke, Hopkins, that made this mischiefe