ds, conduct him to his regiment: night, kind lords and gentlemen. with a gracious eye; thy bruifing irons of wrath, ing, O, defend me still ! [Sleeps. Care e EDWARD, fon to HENRY the Sixth, es between the two tents. heavy on thy foul to-morrow! [To King RICHARD. stab'dft me in my prime of youth -espair therefore, and die!— Be Be cheerful, Richmond; for the wronged fouls The Ghost of King HENRY the Sixth rifes. Ghoft. When I was mortal, my anointed body [To King RICHARD, By thee was punched full of deadly holes : [To RICHMOND. Harry, that prophecy'd thou should'st be king, The Ghost of CLARENCE rifes., Ghost. Let me fit heavy on thy foul to-morrow! [To King RICHARD. I, that was wash'd to death with fulfome wine, [To RICHMOND. The wronged heirs of York do pray for thee; Good angels guard thy battle! Live, and flourish! The Ghofts of RIVERS, GREY, and VAUGHAN, rise. Riv. Let me fit heavy on thy foul to-morrow, [To King RICHARD. Rivers, that died at Pomfret! Despair, and die! [To King RICHARD. y battle end thy days! [To RICHMOND. ■d conquer, for fair England's fake! holts of the two young Princes rife. n on thy coufins fmother'd in the Tower; within thy bosom, Richard, e down to ruin, fhame, and death! fouls bid thee despair and die. hond, fleep in peace, and wake in joy; ard thee from the boar's annoy! et a happy race of kings! ppy fons do bid thee flourish. The Ghost of Queen ANNE rises. rd, thy wife, that wretched Anne thy wife, pt a quiet hour with thee, Now RICHARD e! RICHMON fake! e Tower; h! n joy; by wife, Now Ghost. The firft was I, that help'd the The last was I, that felt thy tyranny : But cheer thy heart, and be thou not di [The Ghosts vanish. King RICHAR dream. K. Rich. Give me another horse,-bind Have mercy, Jefu !-Soft; I did but dre O coward confcience, how dost thou affil The lights burn blue.—It is now dead i Cold fearful drops ftand on my tremblin What do I fear? myfelf? there's none e Richard loves Richard; that is, I am I. Is there a murderer here? No;-Yes; Then fly,What, from myfelf? Great Left I revenge. What? Myfelf on my: murder, in the dir'it degree; all us'd in each degree, bar, crying all,-Guilty! guilty! -There is no creature loves me; no foul will pity me : fhould they? fince that I myself mo pity to myfelf. e fouls of all that I had murder'd Enter RATCLIFF. Good How The o's there? - my lord; 'tis I.. The village cock e falutation to the morn; e up, and buckle on their armour. Ratcliff, I have dream'd a fearful dream!thou? will our friends prove all true? bt, my lord. Ratcliff, I fear, I fear,Dod my lord, be not afraid of shadows. the apostle Paul, fhadows to-night Have |