To thee I do commend my watchful soul, [Sleeps. The ghost of Prince EDWARD, son to Henry the Sixth, rises between the two tents. [To King RICHARD. The ghost of King Henry the Sixth rises. [To King RICHARD. [To RICHMOND. Harry, that prophecy'd thou should'st be king, Doth comfort thee in thy sleep ; Live, and flourish! The Ghost of CLARENCE riscs. [To King RICHARD. Thou offspring of the house of Lancaster, [To RICHMOND. The wronged heirs of York do pray for thee; Good angels guard thy battle! Live, and flourish! The ghosts of Rivers, Grey, and VAUGHAN, rise. Riv. Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow, [To King RICHARD. Rivers, that died at Pomfret! Despair, and die ! Grey. Think upon Grey, and let thy soul despair ! [To King RICHARD. Vaugh. Think upon Vaughan ; and, with guilty fear, Let fall thy lance! Despair, and die ! [To King RICHARD. All. Awake! and think, our wrongs in Richard's [To RICHMOND. Will conquer him ;--awake, and win the day ! bosoin The ghost of Hastings rises. Ghost. Bloody and guilty, guiltily awake; [To King RICHARD. And in a bloody battle end thy days ! Think on lord Hastings ; and despair, and die ! Quiet untroubled soul, awake, awake! [TO RICHMOND. Arın, fight, and conquer, for fair England's sake! The ghosts of the two young Princes rise. Tower; Thy nephews' souls bid thee despair, and die. Sleep, Richmond, sleep in peace, and wake in joy; Good angels guard thee from the boar's annoy! Live, and beget a happy race of kings ! Edward's unhappy sons do bid thee flourish. The ghost of Queen ANNE rises. wife, {TO RICHMOND. Dream of success and happy victory; Thy adversary's wife doth pray for thee. The ghost of BUCKINGHAM rises. Ghost. The first was I, that help'd thee to the crown; [To King RICHARD. The last was I, that felt thy tyranny: O, in the battle think on Buckingham, And die in terror of thy guiltiness ! Dream on, dream on, of bloody deeds and death; Fainting, despair ; despairing, yield thy breath !— I died for hope, ere I could lend thee aid : [To RICHMOND. But cheer thy heart, and be thou not dismay'd : God, and good angels fight on Richmond's side; ; VOL, 1X. And Richard falls in height of all his pride. [The ghosts vanish. King RICHARD starts out of his dream. K. Rich. Give me another horse,--bind up my wounds, Have mercy, Jesu Soft; I did but dream.O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me!The light burns blue- It is now dead midnight. Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh. What do I fear? myself? there's none else by: Richard loves Richard ; that is, I am I. Is there a murderer here? No;-Yes; I am : Then fly,—What, from myself? Great reason : Why? Lest I revenge. What? Myself on myself? I love myself. Wherefore ? for any good, That I myself have done unto myself ? O, no: alas, I rather hate myself, For hateful deeds committed by myself. I am a villain : Yet I lie, I am not. Fool, of thyself speak well:-Fool, do not flatter. My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, And every tongue brings in a several tale, And every tale condemns me for a villain. Perjury, perjury, in the high’st degree, Murder, stern murder, in the dir’st degree; All several sins, all us’d in each degree, Throng to the bar, crying all,-Guilty! guilty ! I shall despair.—There is no creature loves me; And, if I die, no soul will pity me:Nay, wherefore should they? since that I myself Find in myself no pity to myself. Methought, the souls of all that I had murder'd Came to my tent: and every one did threat To-morrow's vengeance on the head of Richard. Enter RATCLIFF. Rat. My lord,K. Rich. Who's there? Rat. Ratcliff, my lord; 'tis I. The early village cock Hath twice done salutation to the morn; Your friends are up, and buckle on their armour. K. Rich. O, Ratcliff, I have dream'd a fearful dream! What thinkest thou? will our friends prove all true ? Rat. No doubt, my lord. K. Rich. By the apostle Paul, shadows to-night [Exeunt King RICHARD and RATCLIFT. RICHMOND wakes. Enter OXFORD and others. Lords. Good morrow, Richmond. Richm. 'Cry mercy, lords, and watchful gentlemen, That you have ta'en a tardy sluggard here. Lords. How have you slept, my lord ? Richm. The sweetest sleep, and fairest-boding dreams, That ever enter'd in a drowsy head, Have I, since your departure, had, my lords. |