William Shakespeare - KING RICHARD III

Thus far into the bowels of the land

Have we march’d on without impediment;

And here receive we from our father Stanley

Lines of fair comfort and encouragement.

The wretched, bloody, and usurping boar

That spoil’d your summer fields and fruitful vines,

Swills your warm blood like wash, and makes his trough

In your embowell’d bosoms,—this foul swine

Lies now even in the centre of this isle,

Near to the town of Leicester, as we learn:

From Tamworth thither is but one day’s march.

In God’s name cheerly on, courageous friends,

To reap the harvest of perpetual peace

By this one bloody trial of sharp war.

OXFORD

Every man’s conscience is a thousand swords,

To fight against that bloody homicide.

HERBERT

I doubt not but his friends will turn to us.

BLUNT

He hath no friends but what are friends for fear,

Which in his dearest need will fly from him.

RICHMOND

All for our vantage. Then in God’s name, march:

True hope is swift, and flies with swallow’s wings;

Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings.

[Exeunt.]

[Enter KING RICHARD and Forces; the DUKE OF NORFOLK, the EARL of SURREY, and others.]

KING RICHARD

Here pitch our tents, even here in Bosworth field.—

My Lord of Surrey, why look you so sad?

SURREY

My heart is ten times lighter than my looks.

KING RICHARD

My Lord of Norfolk,—

NORFOLK

Here, most gracious liege.

KING RICHARD

Norfolk, we must have knocks; ha! must we not?

NORFOLK

We must both give and take, my loving lord.

KING RICHARD

Up With my tent! Here will I lie tonight;

[Soldiers begin to set up the King’s tent.]

But where tomorrow? Well, all’s one for that.—

Who hath descried the number of the traitors?

NORFOLK

Six or seven thousand is their utmost power.

KING RICHARD

Why, our battalia trebles that account:

Besides, the king’s name is a tower of strength,

Which they upon the adverse faction want.—

Up with the tent!—Come, noble gentlemen,

Let us survey the vantage of the ground;—

Call for some men of sound direction:—

Let’s lack no discipline, make no delay;

For, lords, tomorrow is a busy day.

[Exeunt.]

[Enter, on the other side of the field, RICHMOND, SIR WILLIAM BRANDON, OXFORD, and other Lords. Some of the Soldiers pitch RICHMOND’S tent.]

RICHMOND

The weary sun hath made a golden set,

And by the bright tract of his fiery car

Gives token of a goodly day tomorrow.

Sir William Brandon, you shall bear my standard.—

Give me some ink and paper in my tent:

I’ll draw the form and model of our battle,

Limit each leader to his several charge,

And part in just proportion our small power.—

My Lord of Oxford,—you, Sir William Brandon,—

And you, Sir Walter Herbert,—stay with me.—

The Earl of Pembroke keeps his regiment:—

Good Captain Blunt, bear my good night to him,

And by the second hour in the morning

Desire the earl to see me in my tent:

Yet one thing more, good captain, do for me,—

Where is Lord Stanley quarter’d, do you know?

BLUNT

Unless I have mista’en his colours much,—

Which well I am assur’d I have not done,—

His regiment lies half a mile at least

South from the mighty power of the king.

RICHMOND

If without peril it be possible,

Sweet Blunt, make some good means to speak with him

And give him from me this most needful note.

BLUNT

Upon my life, my lord, I’ll undertake it;

And so, God give you quiet rest tonight!

RICHMOND

Good night, good Captain Blunt.—Come, gentlemen,

Let us consult upon tomorrow’s business:

In to my tent; the air is raw and cold.

[They withdraw into the tent.]

[Enter, to his tent, KING RICHARD, NORFOLK, RATCLIFF, and CATESBY.]

KING RICHARD

What is’t o’clock?

CATESBY

It’s suppertime, my lord;

It’s six o’clock.

KING RICHARD

I will not sup tonight.—

Give me some ink and paper.—

What, is my beaver easier than it was?

And all my armour laid into my tent?

CATESBY

It is, my liege; and all things are in readiness.

KING RICHARD

Good Norfolk, hie thee to thy charge;

Use careful watch, choose trusty sentinels.

NORFOLK

I go, my lord.

KING RICHARD

Stir with the lark tomorrow, gentle Norfolk.

NORFOLK

I warrant you, my lord.

[Exit.]

KING RICHARD

Ratcliff,—

RATCLIFF

My lord?

KING RICHARD

Send out a pursuivant-at-arms

To Stanley’s regiment; bid him bring his power

Before sunrising, lest his son George fall

Into the blind cave of eternal night.—

Fill me a bowl of wine.—Give me a watch.—

Saddle white Surrey for the field tomorrow.—

Look that my staves be sound, and not too heavy.—

Ratcliff,—

RATCLIFF

My lord?

KING RICHARD

Saw’st thou the melancholy Lord Northumberland?

RATCLIFF

Thomas the Earl of Surrey and himself,

Much about cockshut time, from troop to troop

Went through the army, cheering up the soldiers.

KING RICHARD

So, I am satisfied.—Give me a bowl of wine:

I have not that alacrity of spirit

Nor cheer of mind that I was wont to have.

Set it down.—Is ink and paper ready?

RATCLIFF

It is, my lord.

KING RICHARD

Bid my guard watch; leave me.

Ratcliff, about the mid of night come to my tent

And help to arm me. Leave me, I say.

[KING RICHARD retires into his tent. Exeunt RATCLIFF and CATESBY.]

[RICHMOND’s tent opens, and discovers him and his Officers, &c.]

STANLEY

Fortune and victory sit on thy helm!

RICHMOND

All comfort that the dark night can afford

Be to thy person, noble fatherin-law!

Tell me, how fares our loving mother?

STANLEY

I, by attorney, bless thee from thy mother,

Who prays continually for Richmond’s good.

So much for that.—The silent hours steal on,

And flaky darkness breaks within the east.

In brief,—for so the season bids us be,—

Prepare thy battle early in the morning,

And put thy fortune to the arbitrement

Of bloody strokes and mortal-staring war.

I, as I may,—that which I would I cannot,—

With best advantage will deceive the time,

And aid thee in this doubtful stroke of arms:

But on thy side I may not be too forward,

Lest, being seen, thy brother, tender George,

Be executed in his father’s sight.

Farewell: the leisure and the fearful time

Cuts off the ceremonious vows of love

And ample interchange of sweet discourse,

Which so-long-sunder’d friends should dwell upon:

God give us leisure for these rites of love!

Once more, adieu: be valiant, and speed well!

RICHMOND

Good lords, conduct him to his regiment:

I’ll strive with troubled thoughts to take a nap,

Lest leaden slumber peise me down tomorrow,

When I should mount with wings of victory:

Once more, good night, kind lords and gentlemen.

[Exeunt Lords, &c, with STANLEY.]

O Thou Whose captain I account myself,

Look on my forces with a gracious eye;

Put in their hands Thy bruising irons of wrath,

That they may crush down with a heavy fall

The usurping helmets of our adversaries!

Make us Thy ministers of chastisement,

That we may praise Thee in Thy victory!

To Thee I do commend my watchful soul