 | Richard III |  |
Scene, The Field:
Enter Richmond, Oxford, Blunt, Herbert, and others, marching.RICHMOND
Thus far into the bowels of the Land
Have we march'd on without Impediment.
'Richard, the bloody and devouring Boar,
'Whose Ravenous Appetite has spoil'd your Fields;
'Laid this rich Country waste, and rudely crop'd
'Its ripned hopes of fair Posterity,
Is now ev'n in the center of the Isle,
As we're inform'd, near to the Town of Leicester:
From Tamworth thither, is but one days march,
And, here receive we from our Father Stanley,
Lines of fair Comfort and Encouragement,
Such as will help and animate our cause,
On which lets Cheerly on, Couragious Friends,
To reap the harvest of a lasting Peace;
Or Fame more lasting from a well fought War.
OXFORD
Your words have fire, my Lord, and warm our men,
Who look'd methought but cold before, hisheartned
With the unequal numbers of the Foe.
RICHMOND
Why, double 'em still, our Cause wou'd Conquer 'em.
Thrice is he arm'd that has his Quarrel Just,
And he but naked, tho'lock'd up in Steel,
Whose Conscience with Inustice is Corrupted:
The very weight of Richard's guilt shall crush him.
BLUNT
His best of Friends,no doubt will soon be ours.
OXFORD
He has no Friends but what are such thro' fear.
47
And we no Foes but what are such to Heaven;
Then doubt not, Heaven's for us. Let's on, my Friends:
True hope ne'er tires, but mounts with Eagles wings,
Kings it makes Gods, and meaner Creatures Kings. (Exit.
| Richard III | |