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Stan. None good, my Liege, to please you with the

Nor none so bad, but well may be reported.

K. Rich. Heyday, a riddle ! neither good nor bad:
Why doft thou run so many miles about,
When thou may'st tell thy tale the nearest way?
Once more, what news?

Stan. Richmond is on the seas.

K. Rich. There let him sink, and be the seas on him! White-liver'd run-a-gate, what doth he there?

Stan. I know not, mighty Sov’reign, but by guess. K. Rich. Well, as you guess.

Stan. Stirr'd up by Dorset, Buckingham, and Morton, He makes for England, here to claim the crown.

K. Rich. Is the chair empty? is the sword unsway'd ? Is the King dead ? the empire unpossess'd ? What heir of York is there alive, but we? And who is England's King, but great York's heir? Then tell me, what makes him upon the sea ?

Stan. Unless for that, my Liege, I cannot guefs.

K. Rich. Unless for that he comes to be your Liege, You cannot guess wherefore the Welsh-man comes. Thou wilt revolt, and Ay to him, I fear.

Stan. No, mighty Liege, therefore mistrust me not.

K. Rich. Where is thy power then to beat him back? Where are thy tenants, and thy followers? Are they not now upon the western shore ? Conducting safe the rebels from their ships ?

Stan. No, my good Lord, my friends are in the north.

K. Rich. Cold friends to me: what do they in the north, When they should serve their Sov’reign in the west?

Stan. They have not been commanded, mighty King;
· Please it your Majesty to give me leave,
L'H muster up my friends, and meet your Grace,
Where, and what time your Majesty shall please.
K. Rich. Ay, thou would'st fåin be gone, to join with

Richmond ;
But I'll not trust thec.


Stan. Mighty Sovereign,
You have no cause to hold my friendship doubtful;
I never was, nor ever will be false.

K. Rich. Go then, and mufter men; but leave behind
Your son George Stanley: look your heart be firm,
Or else his head's assurance is but frail.
Stan. So deal with him, as I prove true to you!

[Exit Stanley.
Enter a Messenger.
Mes. My gracious Sov’reign, now in Devonshire,
As I by friends am well advertised,
Sir Edmund Courtney, and the haughty Prelate,
Bishop of Exeter, his elder brother,
With many more confed'rates, are in arms.

Enter another Messenger:
Mes. In Kent, my Liege, the Guilfords are in arms,
And every hour still more complices!
Flock to the rebels, and their power grows strong.

Enter another Messenger.
Mes. My Lord, the army of the Duke of Buckingham
K. Ricb. Out on ye, owls! nothing but songs of death?

[He strikes bim. There take thou that, 'till thou bring better news.

Mes. The news I have to tell your Majesty,
Is, that by sudden floods and fall of waters,
Buckingham's army is dispers’d and scatter'd,
And he himself wander'd away alone,
No man knows whither.

K. Rich. Oh! I cry thee mercy;
There is my purse, to cure that blow of thine.
Hath any well-advised friend proclaim'd
Reward to him that brings the traitor in?

Mes. Such proclamation hath been made, my Liege.

8 competitors


Enter another Messenger. Mes. Sir Thomas Lovel, and Lord Marquiss Dorset, 'Tis said, my Liege, in Yorkshire are in arms; But this good comfort bring I to your Highness, The Bretagne navy is dispers’d, by tempest, Richmond in Dorsetshire sent out a boat Unto the shore, to ask those on the banks, If they were his assistants, yea, or no? Who answer’d him, they came from Buckingham Upon his party; he mistrusting them, Hois' fail, and made his course again for Bretagne.

K. Rich. March on, march on, since we are up in arms; If not to fight with foreign enemies, Yet to beat down these rebels here at home.

Enter Catesby. Cates. My Liege, the Duke of Buckingham is taken, That is the best news; that the Earl of Richmond Is with a mighty pow'r landed at Milford, Is colder news, but yet it must be told.

K. Rich. Away tow'rds Salisbury; while we reason here, A royal battel might be won and loft : Some one cake order Buckingham be brought To Salisbury; the rest march on with me. [Exeunt.

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Enter Lord Stanley, and Sir Christopher Urswick. Sten. S R Christopher, tell Richmond this from me ;

That in the Sty of this most bloody boar,
My fon George Stanley is frankt up in hold:
If I revolt, off goes young George's head;
The fear of that holds off my present aid.


So get thee gone; commend me to thy Lord.

too, the Queen hath heartily consented He should espouse Elizabeth her daughter. But tell me, where is Princely Richmond now?

Chri. At Pembroke, or at 9'Hav'rford-Weft in Wales.
Stan. What men of name resort to him?

Cbri. Sir Walter Herbert, a renowned soldier,
Sir Gilbert Talbot, and Sir William Stanley,
Oxford, redoubted Pembroke, Sir James 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 withal.

Stan. Well, hie thee to thy Lord: I kiss his hand,
My letter will resolve him of my mind.



S A LIS B U R r.

Enter the Sheriff, and Buckingham with balberts led to



ILL not King Richard let me speak with him?

Sher. No, good my Lord, therefore be patient.
Buck. Hastings, and Edward's children, Gray and

Holy King Henry, and thy fair son Edward,
Vaughan, and all that have miscarried
By underhand, corrupted, foul injustice !
If that your moody, difcontented fouls,
Do through the clouds behold this present hour,

EY'R 9 Hertford-west

Ev'n for revenge mock my destruction!
This is All-Souls day, fellows, is it not?

Sher. It is, my Lord.

Buck. Why then All-Souls day is my body's Doomsday. This is the day, which in King Edward's time I wisht might fall on me, when I was found False to his children, or his wife's allies. This is the day wherein I wisht to fall By the false faith of him whom most I trusted : This the determin’d respite 2 of my wrongs. That high All-seer, which I dallied with, Hath turn'd my feigned prayer on my head, And giv’n in earnest, what I begg'd in jeft. Thus doth he force the swords of wicked men To turn their own points on their masters' bosoms. Thus Marg'ret's curse falls heavy on my head : When he, quoth she, shall split thy heart with sorrow, Remember Marg’ret was a prophetess. Come, Sirs, convey me to the block of shame; Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of blame.

[Exeunt Buckingham with Officers.





The Camp, near Tamworth.

Enter Richmond, Oxford, Blunt, Herbert, and others,

witb Drum and Colours. Richm. FEllows in arms, and my most loving friends

T Bruis'd underneath the yoak of tyranny,
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 (a) That is, the time to which the punishment for his wrong: Was refpited.

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