Enter Richmond, Sir William Branden, Oxford, and Dorset.
Richm. The weary Sunne, hath made a Golden set, And by the bright Tract of his fiery Carre, Giues token of a goodly day to morrow. Sir William Brandon, you shall beare my Standard: Giue me some Inke and Paper in my Tent: Ile draw the Forme and Modell of our Battaile, Limit each Leader to his seuerall Charge, And part in iust proportion our small Power. My Lord of Oxford, you Sir William Brandon, And your Sir Walter Herbert stay with me: The Earle of Pembroke keepes his Regiment; Good Captaine Blunt, beare my goodnight to him, And by the second houre in the Morning, Desire the Earle to see me in my Tent: Yet one thing more (good Captaine) do for me: Where is Lord Stanley quarter'd, do you know? Blunt. Vnlesse I haue mistane his Colours much, (Which well I am assur'd I haue not done) His Regiment lies halfe a Mile at least South, from the mighty Power of the King
Richm. If without perill it be possible, Sweet Blunt, make some good meanes to speak with him And giue him from me, this most needfull Note
Blunt. Vpon my life, my Lord, Ile vndertake it, And so God giue you quiet rest to night
Richm. Good night good Captaine Blunt: Come Gentlemen, Let vs consult vpon to morrowes Businesse; Into my Tent, the Dew is rawe and cold.
They withdraw into the Tent.
Enter Richard, Ratcliffe, Norfolke, & Catesby.
Rich. What is't a Clocke? Cat. It's Supper time my Lord, it's nine a clocke
King. I will not sup to night, Giue me some Inke and Paper: What, is my Beauer easier then it was? And all my Armour laid into my Tent? Cat. It is my Liege: and all things are in readinesse
Rich. Good Norfolke, hye thee to thy charge, Vse carefull Watch, choose trusty Centinels, Nor. I go my Lord
Rich. Stir with the Larke to morrow, gentle Norfolk
Nor. I warrant you my Lord.
Rat. My Lord
Rich. Send out a Pursuiuant at Armes To Stanleys Regiment: bid him bring his power Before Sun-rising, least his Sonne George fall Into the blinde Caue of eternall night. Fill me a Bowle of Wine: Giue me a Watch, Saddle white Surrey for the Field to morrow: Look that my Staues be sound, & not too heauy. Ratcliff
Rat. My Lord
Rich. Saw'st the melancholly Lord Northumberland? Rat. Thomas the Earle of Surrey, and himselfe, Much about Cockshut time, from Troope to Troope Went through the Army, chearing vp the Souldiers
King. So, I am satisfied: Giue me a Bowle of Wine, I haue not that Alacrity of Spirit, Nor cheere of Minde that I was wont to haue. Set it downe. Is Inke and Paper ready? Rat. It is my Lord
Rich. Bid my Guard watch. Leaue me. Ratcliffe, about the mid of night come to my Tent And helpe to arme me. Leaue me I say.
Enter Derby to Richmond in his Tent.
Der. Fortune, and Victory sit on thy Helme
Rich. All comfort that the darke night can affoord, Be to thy Person, Noble Father in Law. Tell me, how fares our Noble Mother? Der. I by Attourney, blesse thee from thy Mother, Who prayes continually for Richmonds good: So much for that. The silent houres steale on, And flakie darkenesse breakes within the East. In breefe, for so the season bids vs be, Prepare thy Battell early in the Morning, And put thy Fortune to th' Arbitrement Of bloody stroakes, and mortall staring Warre: I, as I may, that which I would, I cannot, With best aduantage will deceiue the time, And ayde thee in this doubtfull shocke of Armes. But on thy side I may not be too forward, Least being seene, thy Brother, tender George Be executed in his Fathers sight. Farewell: the leysure, and the fearfull time Cuts off the ceremonious Vowes of Loue, And ample enterchange of sweet Discourse, Which so long sundred Friends should dwell vpon: God giue vs leysure for these rites of Loue. Once more Adieu, be valiant, and speed well