George! Richmond and victory![Exeunt.]
[Re-enter KING RICHARD, RATCLIFF, Attendants, and Forces.]
KING RICHARD
What said Northumberland as touching Richmond?
RATCLIFF
That he was never trainèd up in arms.
KING RICHARD
He said the truth; and what said Surrey then?
RATCLIFF
He smil’d, and said, “the better for our purpose.”
KING RICHARD
He was in the right; and so indeed it is.
[Clock strikes.]
Tell the clock there.—Give me a calendar.—
Who saw the sun to-day?
RATCLIFF
Not I, my lord.
KING RICHARD
Then he disdains to shine; for by the book
He should have brav’d the east an hour ago:
A black day will it be to somebody.—
Ratcliff,—
RATCLIFF
My lord?
KING RICHARD
The sun will not be seen to-day;
The sky doth frown and lower upon our army.
I would these dewy tears were from the ground.
Not shine to-day! Why, what is that to me
More than to Richmond? for the selfsame heaven
That frowns on me looks sadly upon him.
[Enter NORFOLK.]
NORFOLK
Arm, arm, my lord; the foe vaunts in the field.
KING RICHARD
Come, bustle, bustle; caparison my horse;—
Call up Lord Stanley, bid him bring his power:
I will lead forth my soldiers to the plain,
And thus my battle shall be ordered:—
My foreward shall be drawn out all in length,
Consisting equally of horse and foot;
Our archers shall be placèd in the midst:
John Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Earl of Surrey,
Shall have the leading of this foot and horse.
They thus directed, we will follow
In the main battle; whose puissance on either side
Shall be well wingèd with our chiefest horse.
This, and Saint George to boot!—What think’st thou,
Norfolk?
NORFOLK
A good direction, warlike sovereign.—
This found I on my tent this morning.
[Giving a scroll.]
KING RICHARD
[Reads.] “Jockey of Norfolk, be not too bold,
For Dickon thy master is bought and sold.”
A thing devisèd by the enemy.—
Go, gentlemen, every man unto his charge:
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 pellmell;
If not to heaven, then hand in hand to hell.—
What shall I say more than I have inferr’d?
Remember whom you are to cope withal;—
A sort of vagabonds, rascals, and runaways,
A scum of Britagnes, and base lackey peasants,
Whom their o’er-cloyed country vomits forth
To desperate adventures and assur’d destruction.
You sleeping safe, they bring to you 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 Britagne at our mother’s cost?
A milksop, 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 overweening 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 conquered, let men conquer us,
And not these bastard Britagnes, whom our fathers
Have in their own land beaten, bobb’d, and thump’d,
And, on recórd, 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.]
