March on, join bravely! Let us to’t, pell mell—
If not to heaven, then hand in hand to hell.
His oration to his army
What shall I say, more than I have inferred?
Remember whom you are to cope withal:
A sort of vagabonds, rascals and runaways,
A scum of Bretons and base lackey peasants,
Whom their o‘ercloyèd country vomits forth
To desperate ventures and assured destruction.
You sleeping safe, they bring to you unrest;
You having lands and blessed with beauteous wives,
They would distrain the one, distain the other.
And who doth lead them, but a paltry fellow?
Long kept in Bretagne 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 famished beggars, weary of their lives,
Who—but for dreaming on this fond exploit—
For want of means, poor rats, had hanged themselves.
If we be conquered, let men conquer us,
And not these bastard Bretons, whom our fathers
Have in their own land beaten, bobbed, and thumped,
And in record left them the heirs of shame.
Shall these enjoy our lands? Lie with our wives?
Ravish our daughters?
Drum afar off
Hark, I hear their drum.
Fight, gentlemen of England! Fight, bold yeomen!
Draw, archers, draw your arrows to the head!
Spur your proud horses hard, and ride in blood!
Amaze the welkin with your broken staves!
Enter a Messenger
What says Lord Stanley? Will he bring his power?
MESSENGER
My lord, he doth deny to come.
KING RICHARD Off with young George’s head!
NORFOLK
My lord, the enemy is past the marsh.
After the battle let George Stanley die.
KING RICHARD
A thousand hearts are great within my bosom.
Advance our standards! Set upon our foes!
Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint George,
Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons.
Upon them! Victory sits on our helms!
Exeunt
5.7 Alarum. Excursions. Enter Sir William Catesby
CATESBY calling
Rescue, my lord of Norfolk! Rescue, rescue!
⌈To a soldier⌉ The King enacts more wonders than a man,
Daring an opposite to every danger.
His horse is slain, and all on foot he fights,
Seeking for Richmond in the throat of death.
⌈Calling⌉ Rescue, fair lord, or else the day is lost!
Alarums. Enter King Richard
KING RICHARD
A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse!
CATESBY
Withdraw, my lord. I’ll help you to a horse.
KING RICHARD
Slave, I have set my life upon a cast,
And I will stand the hazard of the die.
I think there be six Richmonds in the field.
Five have I slain today, instead of him.
A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse!
Exeunt
5.8 Alarum. Enter King Richard ⌈at one door⌉ and Henry Earl of Richmond ⌈at another⌉. They fight. Richard is slain. ⌈Exit Richmond.⌉ Retreat and flourish. Enter Henry Earl of Richmond and Lord Stanley Earl of Derby, with divers other lords and soldiers
HENRY EARL OF RICHMOND
God and your arms be praised, victorious friends!
The day is ours. The bloody dog is dead.
STANLEY (bearing the crown)
Courageous Richmond, well hast thou acquit thee.
Lo, here this long usurpèd royalty
From the dead temples of this bloody wretch
Have I plucked off, to grace thy brows withal.
Wear it, enjoy it, and make much of it.
⌈He sets the crown on Henry’s head⌉
KING HENRY THE SEVENTH
Great God of heaven, say ‘Amen’ to all.
But tell me—young George Stanley, is he living?
STANLEY
He is, my lord, and safe in Leicester town,
Whither, if it please you, we may now withdraw us.
KING HENRY THE SEVENTH
What men of name are slain on either side?
⌈STANLEY⌉(reads)
John Duke of Norfolk, Robert Brackenbury,
Walter Lord Ferrers, and Sir William Brandon.
KING HENRY THE SEVENTH
Inter their bodies as becomes their births.
Proclaim a pardon to the soldiers fled
That in submission will return to us,
And then—as we have ta‘en the sacrament—
We will unite the white rose and the red.
Smile, heaven, upon this fair conjunction,
That long have frowned upon their enmity.
What traitor hears me and says not ‘Amen’?
England hath long been mad, and scarred herself;
The brother blindly shed the brother’s blood;
The father rashly slaughtered his own son;
The son, compelled, been butcher to the sire;
All that divided York and Lancaster,
United in their dire division.
O now let Richmond and Elizabeth,
The true succeeders of each royal house,
By God’s fair ordinance conjoin together,
And let their heirs—God, if his will be so—
Enrich the time to come with smooth-faced peace,
With smiling plenty, and fair prosperous days.
Abate the edge of traitors, gracious Lord,
That would reduce these bloody days again
And make poor England weep forth streams of blood.