! I hear their drum. Fight, gentlemen of England! fight, bold yoemen! Draw, archers, draw your arrows to the head! Spur your proud horses hard, and ride in blood; Amaze the welkin with your broken staves! What says Lord Stanley? will he bring his power? My lord, he doth deny to come. Off with his son George's head! My lord, the enemy is past the marsh After the battle let George Stanley die. A thousand hearts are great within my bosom: Advance our standards, set upon our foes Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint George, Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons! Upon them! victory sits on our helms. Rescue, my Lord of Norfolk, rescue, rescue! The king enacts more wonders than a man, Daring an opposite to every danger: His horse is slain, and all on foot he fights, Seeking for Richmond in the throat of death. Rescue, fair lord, or else the day is lost! A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse! Withdraw, my lord; I'll help you to a horse. Slave, I have set my life upon a cast, And I will stand the hazard of the die: I think there be six Richmonds in the field; Five have I slain to-day instead of him. A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse! God and your arms be praised, victorious friends, The day is ours, the bloody dog is dead. Courageous Richmond, well hast thou acquit thee. Lo, here, this long-usurped royalty From the dead temples of this bloody wretch Have I pluck'd off, to grace thy brows withal: Wear it, enjoy it, and make much of it. Great God of heaven, say Amen to all! But, tell me, is young George Stanley living? He is, my lord, and safe in Leicester town; Whither, if it please you, we may now withdraw us. What men of name are slain on either side? John Duke of Norfolk, Walter Lord Ferrers, Sir Robert Brakenbury, and Sir William Brandon. Inter their bodies as becomes their births: Proclaim a pardon to the soldiers fled That in submission will return to us: And then, as we have ta'en the sacrament, We will unite the white rose and the red: Smile heaven upon this fair conjunction, That long have frown'd upon their enmity! What traitor hears me, and says not amen? England hath long been mad, and scarr'd herself; The brother blindly shed the brother's blood, The father rashly slaughter'd his own son, The son, compell'd, been butcher to the sire: All this