Tell me, how fares our loving mother? Stanl. I, by attorney, blefs thee from thy mother; Farewel; the leifure, and the fearful time N 2 [Sleeps. SCENE SCENE, between the Tents of Richard and Richmond: They fleeping. Enter the Ghoft of Prince Edward, Son to Henry the Sixth. Ghost.LET me fit heavy on thy foul to-morrow! [To K. Rich. Think, how thou tab'dft me in the prime of youth At Tewksbury: therefore defpair and die. Be cheerful, Richmond; for the wronged fouls [To Richm. Of butcher'd Princes fight in thy behalf: King Henry's iffue, Richmond, comforts thee. Enter the Ghaft of Henry the Sixth. Ghoft. When I was mortal, my anointed body [To K. Rich. By thee was punched full of deadly holes ; Think on the Tower, and me; despair, and die. Henry the Sixth bids thee defpair, and die. Virtuous and holy, be thou Conqueror: [To Rich. Harry, that prophefy'd thou fhouldft be King, Doth comfort thee in fleep; live thou and flourish. Enter the Ghost of Clarence. Ghoft. Let me fit heavy on thy foul to-morrow! I, that was wash'd to death in fulfom wine, Enter the Ghols of Rivers, Gray, and Vaughan. Riv. Let me fit heavy on thy foul to-morrow! [To K. Rich. Rivers, that dy'd at Pomfret: defpair, and die. Grey. Gray. Think upon Gray, and let thy foul despair. [To K. Rich. Vaugh. Think upon Vaughan, and with guilty fear Let fall thy lance! Richard, defpair and die. [To K. Rich. All. Awake! and think, our wrongs in Richard's bofom Will conquer him.-Awake, and win the day. Enter the Ghoft of Lord Haftings. [To Richm. Ghoft. Bloody and guilty, guiltily awake; [To K. Rich. And in a bloody battle end thy days: Think on Lord Haftings; and defpair and die. Quiet, untroubled foul, awake, awake! [To Richm. Arm, fight, and conquer, for fair England's fake. Enter the Ghosts of the two young Princes. Ghofts. Dream on thy cousins fmother'd in the Tower: Let us be lead within thy bofom, Richard, (13) [To K. Rich. And weigh thee down to ruin, fhame, and death! Thy Nephews' fouls bid thee despair and die. Sleep, Richmond, fleep in peace; and wake in joy. [To Richm. Good angels guard thee from the boar's annoy! Live, and beget a happy race of Kings Edward's unhappy fons do bid thee flourish. (13) Let us be laid within thy Bofom, Richard,] This is a poor feeble Reading, which has obtain'd by Corruption, ever fince the firft Edition put out by the Players: and, indeed, up as high as the Quarto in 1602. But I have reftor'd from the elder Quarto," publish'd in 1597, which Mr. Pope does not pretend to have seen ; Let us be Lead within thy Bofom, Richard, This corresponds with what is said in the Line immediately following, And weigh thee down to Ruin, Shame and Death! And likewife with what the Generality of the Ghosts say threateningly to Richard ; Let me fit heavy on thy Soul to-morrow! Enter the Ghoft of Anne his wife. Ghost. Richard, thy wife, that wretched Anne thy wife, That never flept a quiet hour with thee, Thou, quiet foul, fleep thou a quiet fleep: [To Richm. Dream of fuccefs and happy victory, Thy adverfary's wife doth pray for thee. Enter the Ghost of Buckingham. [To K. Rich. Ghoft. The first was I, that help'd thee to the Crown: The laft was I, that felt thy tyranny. O, in the battle think on Buckingham, And die in terror of thy guiltinefs. Dream on, dream on, of bloody deeds and death: Fainting, defpair; defpairing, yield thy breath. I dy'd for Holpe, ere I could lend thee aid; (14) [To Richm. But cheer thy heart, and be thou not difmay'd: God and good angels fight on Richmond's fide, And Richard fall in height of all his pride.. K. Rieb. Give me Have mercy, Jefu [The Ghofts vanish. [K. Richard farts out of his dream. another horfe-bind up my wounds. —foft, I did but dream. The lights burn blue O coward confcience! how doft thou afflict me? is it not dead midnight? Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh. (14) I dy'd for Hope, ere I could lend thee Aid,] All the Editions concur in this Reading, to the abfolute Detriment of the Senfe. I restore, with the Addition of a fingle Letter; I dy'd for Holpe, ere I could lend thee Aid: 3. e. I perifh'd for that Help, which I had intended and was preparing to lend thee; tho' I could not effentially give thee any Affiftance. What? f What do I fear myself? there's none else by; Is there a murd'rer here? no yes, I am. Then fly-what, from myfelf? great reafon; why? I love myself. Wherefore? for any good, Fool of thyfelf (peak well-Fool, do not flatter. Nay, wherefore fhould they? fince that I myself Methought, the fouls of all that I had murder'd Rat. My Lord, Enter Ratcliff. K. Rich. Who's there? Rat. Ratcliff, my Lord. The early village-cock Your friends are up, and buckle on their armour. Rat. Nay, good my Lord, be not afraid of fhadows. 4 |