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Here pitch our tents, even here in Bosworth field. My Lord of Surrey, why look you so sad?
Let’s set up our tents here, right here in Bosworth field. My Lord of Surrey, why do you look so down?
My heart is ten times lighter than my looks.
My heart feels lighter than I probably look.
My Lord of Norfolk,--
My Lord of Norfolk,--
Here, most gracious liege.
Here, most gracious king.
Norfolk, we must have knocks; ha! must we not?
Norfolk, we have to fight; right? Don’t we?
We must both give and take, my gracious lord.
We must both give and take, my gracious lord.
Up with my tent there! here will I lie tonight; But where to-morrow? Well, all’s one for that. Who hath descried the number of the foe?
Set up my tent there! I’ll sleep here tonight; But where will we be tomorrow? Oh well, it doesn’t matter. Who has figured out how many enemies we’re facing?
Six or seven thousand is their utmost power.
They have about six or seven thousand at most.
Why, our battalion trebles that account: Besides, the king’s name is a tower of strength, Which they upon the adverse party want. Up with my tent there! Valiant gentlemen, Let us survey the vantage of the field Call for some men of sound direction Let’s want no discipline, make no delay, For, lords, to-morrow is a busy day.
Well, our army is three times that size: Plus, the king’s name is a fortress of power, Which they don’t have on their side. Set up my tent there! Brave men, Let’s take a look at the layout of the field. Bring me some smart men to help plan. We need to be organized, no delays, Because, lords, tomorrow will be a busy day.
The weary sun hath made a golden set, And by the bright track of his fiery car, Gives signal, of a goodly day to-morrow. Sir William Brandon, you shall bear my standard. Give me some ink and paper in my tent I’ll draw the form and model of our battle, Limit each leader to his several charge, And part in just proportion our small strength. My Lord of Oxford, you, Sir William Brandon, And you, Sir Walter Herbert, stay with me. The Earl of Pembroke keeps his regiment: Good Captain Blunt, bear my good night to him And by the second hour in the morning Desire the earl to see me in my tent: Yet one thing more, good Blunt, before thou go’st, Where is Lord Stanley quarter’d, dost thou know?
The tired sun has set beautifully, And by the bright trail of his fiery chariot, He signals that tomorrow will be a great day. Sir William Brandon, you’ll carry my flag. Give me some ink and paper in my tent, I’ll draw up the plan for our battle, Assign each leader their responsibilities, And divide our small army fairly. My Lord of Oxford, you, Sir William Brandon, And you, Sir Walter Herbert, stay with me. The Earl of Pembroke is in charge of his men: Good Captain Blunt, wish him good night for me And in the second hour of the morning, Ask the earl to meet me in my tent: But one more thing, good Blunt, before you go, Do you know where Lord Stanley is stationed?
Unless I have mista’en his colours much, Which well I am assured I have not done, His regiment lies half a mile at least South from the mighty power of the king.
Unless I’ve mistaken his colors, Which I’m confident I haven’t, His men are camped about half a mile south Of the king’s mighty army.
If without peril it be possible, Good Captain Blunt, bear my good-night to him, And give him from me this most needful scroll.
If it’s possible without danger, Good Captain Blunt, say good-night to him for me, And give him this important letter from me.
Upon my life, my lord, I’ll under-take it; And so, God give you quiet rest to-night!
I swear, my lord, I’ll take care of it; And may God grant you a peaceful rest tonight!
Good night, good Captain Blunt. Come gentlemen, Let us consult upon to-morrow’s business In to our tent; the air is raw and cold.
Good night, good Captain Blunt. Come on, gentlemen, Let’s discuss tomorrow’s plans Inside our tent; the air is chilly and cold.
What is’t o’clock?
What time is it?
It’s supper-time, my lord; It’s nine o’clock.
It’s supper time, my lord; It’s nine o’clock.
I will not sup to-night. Give me some ink and paper. What, is my beaver easier than it was? And all my armour laid into my tent?
I won’t eat tonight. Bring me some ink and paper. What, is my helmet more comfortable now? And is all my armor packed in my tent?
If is, my liege; and all things are in readiness.
Yes, my lord; everything is ready.
Good Norfolk, hie thee to thy charge; Use careful watch, choose trusty sentinels.
Good Norfolk, go to your post; Keep a careful watch, choose reliable guards.
I go, my lord.
I’m going, my lord.
Stir with the lark to-morrow, gentle Norfolk.
Wake up early tomorrow, gentle Norfolk.
I warrant you, my lord.
I promise you, my lord.
Catesby!
Catesby!
My lord?
My lord?
Send out a pursuivant at arms To Stanley’s regiment; bid him bring his power Before sunrising, lest his son George fall Into the blind cave of eternal night.
Send a messenger to Stanley’s troops, Tell him to bring his army before dawn, Or else his son George will fall Into the dark pit of eternal night.
Fill me a bowl of wine. Give me a watch. Saddle white Surrey for the field to-morrow. Look that my staves be sound, and not too heavy. Ratcliff!
Fill me a glass of wine. Give me a watch. Get white Surrey ready for tomorrow’s battle. Make sure my spears are in good condition, and not too heavy. Ratcliff!
My lord?
My lord?
Saw’st thou the melancholy Lord Northumberland?
Did you see the sad Lord Northumberland?
Thomas the Earl of Surrey, and himself, Much about cock-shut time, from troop to troop Went through the army, cheering up the soldiers.
Thomas, the Earl of Surrey, and Lord Northumberland, Around dusk, went from group to group Moving through the army, encouraging the soldiers.
So, I am satisfied. Give me a bowl of wine: I have not that alacrity of spirit, Nor cheer of mind, that I was wont to have. Set it down. Is ink and paper ready?
Good, I’m satisfied. Bring me a glass of wine: I don’t have the energy or the cheerfulness That I used to have. Put it down. Is ink and paper ready?
It is, my lord.
Yes, my lord.
Bid my guard watch; leave me. Ratcliff, about the mid of night come to my tent And help to arm me. Leave me, I say.
Tell my guards to keep watch; leave me now. Ratcliff, come to my tent around midnight And help me get dressed for battle. Leave me, I said.
Fortune and victory sit on thy helm!
May fortune and victory be with you!
All comfort that the dark night can afford Be to thy person, noble father-in-law! Tell me, how fares our loving mother?
May the comfort of the dark night be with you, Noble father-in-law! Tell me, how is our dear mother?
I, by attorney, bless thee from thy mother Who prays continually for Richmond’s good: So much for that. The silent hours steal on, And flaky darkness breaks within the east. In brief,--for so the season bids us be,-- Prepare thy battle early in the morning, And put thy fortune to the arbitrement Of bloody strokes and mortal-staring war. I, as I may--that which I would I cannot,-- With best advantage will deceive the time, And aid thee in this doubtful shock of arms: But on thy side I may not be too forward Lest, being seen, thy brother, tender George, Be executed in his father’s sight. Farewell: the leisure and the fearful time Cuts off the ceremonious vows of love And ample interchange of sweet discourse, Which so long sunder’d friends should dwell upon: God give us leisure for these rites of love! Once more, adieu: be valiant, and speed well!
I, acting for her, bless you from your mother, Who prays constantly for your success: That’s enough of that. The quiet hours pass, And the dark sky begins to lighten in the east. In short, as the season demands, Prepare for battle early tomorrow morning, And risk your fortune in bloody combat. I will, as best as I can--though it’s not what I want-- Take advantage of the time and help you in this dangerous fight: But I must be careful not to be too obvious on your side, Or your brother, gentle George, might be executed in front of his father. Farewell: this tense time cuts short the ceremonial vows of love And the long exchanges of sweet conversation That long-separated friends should have: God give us time for these acts of love! Once again, goodbye: be brave, and good luck!
Good lords, conduct him to his regiment: I’ll strive, with troubled thoughts, to take a nap, Lest leaden slumber peise me down to-morrow, When I should mount with wings of victory: Once more, good night, kind lords and gentlemen.
Good lords, take him to his troops: I’ll try to rest, though troubled by my thoughts, Lest heavy sleep weigh me down tomorrow, When I should rise with the wings of victory: Once again, good night, kind lords and gentlemen.
O Thou, whose captain I account myself, Look on my forces with a gracious eye; Put in their hands thy bruising irons of wrath, That they may crush down with a heavy fall The usurping helmets of our adversaries! Make us thy ministers of chastisement, That we may praise thee in the victory! To thee I do commend my watchful soul, Ere I let fall the windows of mine eyes: Sleeping and waking, O, defend me still!
O You, whose leader I consider myself, Look on my army with a kind eye; Put into their hands your punishing weapons of anger, So they can crush down with a mighty blow The enemy helmets of those who have taken our throne! Make us your agents of punishment, So we can praise you in the victory! To you I entrust my vigilant soul, Before I close the windows of my eyes: Sleeping and awake, Oh, keep me safe always!
Ghost
Ghost
[To KING RICHARD III] Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow! Think, how thou stab’dst me in my prime of youth At Tewksbury: despair, therefore, and die!
[To KING RICHARD III] Let me weigh heavily on your conscience tomorrow! Remember how you killed me in my prime, At Tewksbury: so despair, and die!
Be cheerful, Richmond; for the wronged souls Of butcher’d princes fight in thy behalf King Henry’s issue, Richmond, comforts thee.
Be brave, Richmond; for the wronged souls Of murdered princes fight in your favor, King Henry’s heirs, Richmond, give you comfort.
Ghost
Ghost
[To KING RICHARD III] When I was mortal, my anointed body By thee was punched full of deadly holes Think on the Tower and me: despair, and die! Harry the Sixth bids thee despair, and die!
[To KING RICHARD III] When I was alive, my anointed body Was filled with deadly wounds by you Think on the Tower and me: despair, and die! Harry the Sixth tells you to despair, and die!
Virtuous and holy, be thou conqueror! Harry, that prophesied thou shouldst be king, Doth comfort thee in thy sleep: live, and flourish!
Virtuous and holy, may you be the victor! Harry, who prophesied that you would be king, Comforts you in your sleep: live, and thrive!
[To KING RICHARD III] Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow! I, that was wash’d to death with fulsome wine, Poor Clarence, by thy guile betrayed to death! To-morrow in the battle think on me, And fall thy edgeless sword: despair, and die!--
[To KING RICHARD III] Let me weigh heavily on your conscience tomorrow! I, who was drowned to death with foul wine, Poor Clarence, betrayed to death by your deceit! Tomorrow in battle, think of me, And let your sword fall blunt: despair, and die!--
Thou offspring of the house of Lancaster The wronged heirs of York do pray for thee Good angels guard thy battle! live, and flourish!
You, descendant of the house of Lancaster, The wronged heirs of York pray for you, May good angels protect your battle! live, and thrive!
[To KING RICHARD III] Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow, Rivers. that died at Pomfret! despair, and die!
[To KING RICHARD III] Let me haunt your soul tomorrow, Rivers, who died at Pomfret! despair, and die!
[To KING RICHARD III] Think upon Grey, and let thy soul despair!
[To KING RICHARD III] Think about Grey, and let your soul despair!
[To KING RICHARD III] Think upon Vaughan, and, with guilty fear, Let fall thy lance: despair, and die!
[To KING RICHARD III] Think about Vaughan, and, with guilty fear, Drop your weapon: despair, and die!
[To RICHMOND] Awake, and think our wrongs in Richard’s bosom Will conquer him! awake, and win the day!
[To RICHMOND] Wake up, and know that our wrongs inside Richard’s heart Will defeat him! wake up, and win the day!
[To KING RICHARD III] Bloody and guilty, guiltily awake, And in a bloody battle end thy days! Think on Lord Hastings: despair, and die!
[To KING RICHARD III] Bloody and guilty, wake up with guilt, And end your days in a bloody battle! Think of Lord Hastings: despair, and die!
Quiet untroubled soul, awake, awake! Arm, fight, and conquer, for fair England’s sake!
Quiet, peaceful soul, wake up, wake up! Arm yourself, fight, and win for England’s sake!
Ghosts
Ghosts
[To KING RICHARD III] Dream on thy cousins smother’d in the Tower: Let us be led within thy bosom, Richard, And weigh thee down to ruin, shame, and death! Thy nephews’ souls bid thee despair and die!
[To KING RICHARD III] Dream of your cousins smothered in the Tower: Let us haunt your heart, Richard, And drag you down to ruin, shame, and death! Your nephews’ souls command you to despair and die!
Sleep, Richmond, sleep in peace, and wake in joy; Good angels guard thee from the boar’s annoy! Live, and beget a happy race of kings! Edward’s unhappy sons do bid thee flourish.
Sleep, Richmond, sleep in peace, and wake in joy; May good angels protect you from the boar’s harm! Live, and have a happy line of kings! Edward’s unlucky sons want you to succeed.
[To KING RICHARD III] Richard, thy wife, that wretched Anne thy wife, That never slept a quiet hour with thee, Now fills thy sleep with perturbations To-morrow in the battle think on me, And fall thy edgeless sword: despair, and die!
[To KING RICHARD III] Richard, your wife, that miserable Anne your wife, Who never spent a peaceful moment with you, Now fills your sleep with disturbances Tomorrow in the battle, think of me, And drop your useless sword: despair, and die!
Thou quiet soul, sleep thou a quiet sleep Dream of success and happy victory! Thy adversary’s wife doth pray for thee.
You peaceful soul, sleep peacefully Dream of success and a joyful victory! Your enemy’s wife is praying for you.
Ghost
Ghost
[To KING RICHARD III] The last was I that helped thee to the crown; The last was I that felt thy tyranny: O, in the battle think on Buckingham, And die in terror of thy guiltiness! Dream on, dream on, of bloody deeds and death: Fainting, despair; despairing, yield thy breath!
[To KING RICHARD III] I was the last to help you get the crown; I was the last to suffer under your tyranny: Oh, in the battle, remember Buckingham, And die in fear of your own guilt! Dream on, dream on, of bloody deeds and death: Weak and hopeless, hopeless, give up your life!
I died for hope ere I could lend thee aid: But cheer thy heart, and be thou not dismay’d: God and good angel fight on Richmond’s side; And Richard falls in height of all his pride.
I died hoping to help you, but never could: But lift your heart, and don’t be discouraged: God and good angels fight on Richmond’s side; And Richard will fall at the height of his pride.
Give me another horse: bind up my wounds. Have mercy, Jesu!--Soft! I did but dream. O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me! The lights burn blue. It is now dead midnight. Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh. What do I fear? myself? there’s none else by: Richard loves Richard; that is, I am I. Is there a murderer here? No. Yes, I am: Then fly. What, from myself? Great reason why: Lest I revenge. What, myself upon myself? Alack. I love myself. Wherefore? for any good That I myself have done unto myself? O, no! alas, I rather hate myself For hateful deeds committed by myself! I am a villain: yet I lie. I am not. Fool, of thyself speak well: fool, do not flatter. My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, And every tongue brings in a several tale, And every tale condemns me for a villain. Perjury, perjury, in the high’st degree Murder, stem murder, in the direst degree; All several sins, all used in each degree, Throng to the bar, crying all, Guilty! guilty! I shall despair. There is no creature loves me; And if I die, no soul shall pity me: Nay, wherefore should they, since that I myself Find in myself no pity to myself? Methought the souls of all that I had murder’d Came to my tent; and every one did threat To-morrow’s vengeance on the head of Richard.
Give me another horse: bind up my wounds. Have mercy, Jesus!--Wait! I was just dreaming. Oh cowardly conscience, how you torture me! The lights are flickering. It’s dead midnight. Cold, fearful drops are on my trembling skin. What am I afraid of? Myself? There’s no one else here: Richard loves Richard; that is, I am me. Is there a murderer here? No. Yes, I am: Then run. What, from myself? Good reason why: Lest I seek revenge. What, against myself? Alas. I love myself. Why? For any good That I’ve done for myself? Oh, no! I actually hate myself For the hateful things I’ve done! I am a villain: but I lie. I’m not. Fool, speak well of yourself: fool, don’t flatter. My conscience has a thousand different voices, And each one tells a different story, And each story condemns me as a villain. Lies, lies, the worst lies Murder, pure murder, the most terrible murder; All kinds of sins, each in its worst form, Crowd together, all shouting, Guilty! guilty! I will despair. No one loves me; And if I die, no soul will pity me: Why should they, since I can find in myself No pity for myself? I thought the souls of all I’ve murdered Came to my tent; and each one threatened Tomorrow’s revenge on Richard’s head.
My lord!
My lord!
’Zounds! who is there?
Damn it! Who’s there?
Ratcliff, my lord; ’tis I. The early village-cock Hath twice done salutation to the morn; Your friends are up, and buckle on their armour.
Ratcliff, my lord; it’s me. The village rooster Has crowed twice to greet the morning; Your men are up and getting ready for battle.
O Ratcliff, I have dream’d a fearful dream! What thinkest thou, will our friends prove all true?
Oh Ratcliff, I’ve had a terrible dream! What do you think, will our friends stay loyal?
No doubt, my lord.
No doubt about it, my lord.
O Ratcliff, I fear, I fear,--
Oh Ratcliff, I’m scared, I’m really scared,--
Nay, good my lord, be not afraid of shadows.
No, my good lord, don’t be afraid of shadows.
By the apostle Paul, shadows to-night Have struck more terror to the soul of Richard Than can the substance of ten thousand soldiers Armed in proof, and led by shallow Richmond. It is not yet near day. Come, go with me; Under our tents I’ll play the eaves-dropper, To see if any mean to shrink from me.
By Saint Paul, the shadows tonight Have frightened me more than ten thousand soldiers Armed to the teeth, led by weak Richmond. It’s still not morning. Come, go with me; Under our tents I’ll listen in secret, To see if anyone plans to back out on me.
Good morrow, Richmond!
Good morning, Richmond!
Cry mercy, lords and watchful gentlemen, That you have ta’en a tardy sluggard here.
Apologies, lords and watchful gentlemen, For having been a lazy sleeper.
How have you slept, my lord?
How did you sleep, my lord?
The sweetest sleep, and fairest-boding dreams That ever enter’d in a drowsy head, Have I since your departure had, my lords. Methought their souls, whose bodies Richard murder’d, Came to my tent, and cried on victory: I promise you, my soul is very jocund In the remembrance of so fair a dream. How far into the morning is it, lords?
The sweetest sleep, and the most hopeful dreams That ever entered a sleepy head, Have I had since you left, my lords. I dreamed the souls of those Richard murdered, Came to my tent and cried out for victory: I swear, my heart is very joyful Thinking about such a wonderful dream. How far into the morning is it, lords?
Upon the stroke of four.
It’s almost four o’clock.
Why, then ’tis time to arm and give direction.
Well, then it’s time to get armed and give orders.
More than I have said, loving countrymen, The leisure and enforcement of the time Forbids to dwell upon: yet remember this, God and our good cause fight upon our side; The prayers of holy saints and wronged souls, Like high-rear’d bulwarks, stand before our faces; Richard except, those whom we fight against Had rather have us win than him they follow: For what is he they follow? truly, gentlemen, A bloody tyrant and a homicide; One raised in blood, and one in blood establish’d; One that made means to come by what he hath, And slaughter’d those that were the means to help him; Abase foul stone, made precious by the foil Of England’s chair, where he is falsely set; One that hath ever been God’s enemy: Then, if you fight against God’s enemy, God will in justice ward you as his soldiers; If you do sweat to put a tyrant down, You sleep in peace, the tyrant being slain; If you do fight against your country’s foes, Your country’s fat shall pay your pains the hire; If you do fight in safeguard of your wives, Your wives shall welcome home the conquerors; If you do free your children from the sword, Your children’s children quit it in your age. Then, in the name of God and all these rights, Advance your standards, draw your willing swords. For me, the ransom of my bold attempt Shall be this cold corpse on the earth’s cold face; But if I thrive, the gain of my attempt The least of you shall share his part thereof. Sound drums and trumpets boldly and cheerfully; God and Saint George! Richmond and victory!
More than I’ve already said, dear countrymen, The time we have and the urgency of it Won’t allow me to go on: but remember this, God and our righteous cause are on our side; The prayers of holy saints and innocent souls, Like strong walls, are protecting us; Except for Richard, the people we fight Would rather see us win than follow him: For what is he they follow? Honestly, gentlemen, A bloody tyrant and a murderer; A man who rose to power through bloodshed, And murdered those who helped him get there; A worthless stone, made precious only by the crown Of England, where he falsely sits; A man who’s always been an enemy of God: So if you fight against God’s enemy, God will protect you as His soldiers; If you work to bring down a tyrant, You’ll sleep peacefully, with the tyrant dead; If you fight to defend your country’s enemies, Your country will reward you for your efforts; If you fight to protect your wives, Your wives will greet you as heroes; If you save your children from the sword, Your grandchildren will be grateful in your old age. So, in the name of God and all these reasons, Lift your banners, draw your swords with courage. As for me, the price of my bold attempt Will be this cold body lying on the cold ground; But if I succeed, the smallest of you Will share in the victory. Sound the drums and trumpets loudly and joyfully; God and Saint George! Richmond and victory!
What said Northumberland as touching Richmond?
What did Northumberland say about Richmond?
That he was never trained up in arms.
He was never trained to fight.
He said the truth: and what said Surrey then?
He spoke the truth. What did Surrey say then?
He smiled and said ’The better for our purpose.’
He smiled and said, "That’s better for us."
He was in the right; and so indeed it is.
He was right; and it really is better for us.
Ten the clock there. Give me a calendar. Who saw the sun to-day?
It’s ten o’clock. Bring me a calendar. Who saw the sun today?
Not I, my lord.
Not me, my lord.
Then he disdains to shine; for by the book He should have braved the east an hour ago A black day will it be to somebody. Ratcliff!
Then it refuses to shine; because according to the book, It should have risen in the east an hour ago. This will be a bad day for someone. Ratcliff!
My lord?
My lord?
The sun will not be seen to-day; The sky doth frown and lour upon our army. I would these dewy tears were from the ground. Not shine to-day! Why, what is that to me More than to Richmond? for the selfsame heaven That frowns on me looks sadly upon him.
The sun won’t be seen today; The sky is dark and threatening over our army. I wish these wet tears were gone from the ground. Not shining today! Why should that matter to me Any more than it matters to Richmond? The same sky That frowns on me looks just as grim on him.
Arm, arm, my lord; the foe vaunts in the field.
Arm, arm, my lord; the enemy is boasting in the field.
Come, bustle, bustle; caparison my horse. Call up Lord Stanley, bid him bring his power: I will lead forth my soldiers to the plain, And thus my battle shall be ordered: My foreward shall be drawn out all in length, Consisting equally of horse and foot; Our archers shall be placed in the midst John Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Earl of Surrey, Shall have the leading of this foot and horse. They thus directed, we will follow In the main battle, whose puissance on either side Shall be well winged with our chiefest horse. This, and Saint George to boot! What think’st thou, Norfolk?
Come on, hurry up; get my horse ready. Call Lord Stanley, tell him to bring his army: I will lead my soldiers to the plain, And here’s how I want my battle set up: My forward unit will be spread out in a line, With equal numbers of cavalry and infantry; Our archers will be placed in the middle. John Duke of Norfolk and Thomas Earl of Surrey Will lead the foot soldiers and cavalry. Once they’re in position, we’ll follow In the main battle, where our strongest cavalry Will be well positioned to support both sides. This, and Saint George as our guide! What do you think, Norfolk?
A good direction, warlike sovereign. This found I on my tent this morning.
A good plan, my warlike lord. I found this note in my tent this morning.
[Reads] ’Jockey of Norfolk, be not too bold, For Dickon thy master is bought and sold.’ A thing devised by the enemy. Go, gentleman, every man unto his charge Let not our babbling dreams affright our souls: Conscience is but a word that cowards use, Devised at first to keep the strong in awe: Our strong arms be our conscience, swords our law. March on, join bravely, let us to’t pell-mell If not to heaven, then hand in hand to hell.
[Reads] "Jockey of Norfolk, don’t be too bold, For Dickon your master is bought and sold." A trick played by the enemy. Go, gentlemen, each to your duty. Let our idle worries not scare us: Conscience is just a word that cowards use, Made up to keep the strong in check: Our strength will be our conscience, and our swords our law. March on, join together bravely, let’s go at it, no holding back. If not to heaven, then hand in hand to hell.
What shall I say more than I have inferr’d? Remember whom you are to cope withal; A sort of vagabonds, rascals, and runaways, A scum of Bretons, and base lackey peasants, Whom their o’er-cloyed country vomits forth To desperate ventures and assured destruction. You sleeping safe, they bring to you unrest; You having lands, and blest with beauteous wives, They would restrain the one, distain the other. And who doth lead them but a paltry fellow, Long kept in Bretagne at our mother’s cost? A milk-sop, one that never in his life Felt so much cold as over shoes in snow? Let’s whip these stragglers o’er the seas again; Lash hence these overweening rags of France, These famish’d beggars, weary of their lives; Who, but for dreaming on this fond exploit, For want of means, poor rats, had hang’d themselves: If we be conquer’d, let men conquer us, And not these bastard Bretons; whom our fathers Have in their own land beaten, bobb’d, and thump’d, And in record, left them the heirs of shame. Shall these enjoy our lands? lie with our wives? Ravish our daughters?
What more can I say than what I’ve already suggested? Remember who you’re about to fight; A bunch of vagabonds, criminals, and runaways, A scum of Bretons, and lowly peasant servants, Who their overcrowded country spits out To desperate adventures and certain doom. While you sleep safely, they bring you trouble; You own land, and are blessed with beautiful wives, They’d take away the one, dishonor the other. And who leads them? A worthless man, Who’s been kept in Brittany at our mother’s expense? A soft weakling, someone who’s never in his life Felt anything colder than his shoes in snow? Let’s send these stragglers back across the sea; Drive away these arrogant rags from France, These starving beggars, tired of their lives; Who, if it weren’t for dreaming of this foolish venture, Would have hanged themselves out of desperation: If we are defeated, let other men defeat us, And not these bastard Bretons; the same ones our fathers Have beaten, humiliated, and punished in their own land, Leaving them, in history, the heirs of shame. Shall these men take our lands? sleep with our wives? Rape our daughters?
Hark! 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!
Listen! I hear their drum. Fight, gentlemen of England! Fight, brave peasants! Draw, archers, draw your arrows to the heads! Spur your proud horses hard, and ride through blood; Shock the heavens with your broken spears!
What says Lord Stanley? will he bring his power?
What does Lord Stanley say? Will he bring his troops?
My lord, he doth deny to come.
My lord, he refuses to come.
Off with his son George’s head!
Off with his son George’s head!
My lord, the enemy is past the marsh After the battle let George Stanley die.
My lord, the enemy has passed 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.
A thousand hearts are swelling within me: Raise our flags, and charge our enemies With our old battle cry, Saint George, Inspire us with the fury of fiery dragons! Attack them! Victory is ours to claim.