RICHMOND AT BOSWORTH FIELD.
MORE than I have said, loving countrymen,
The leisure and enforcement of the time
Forbids to dwell on: 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
A base, 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 corse 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!
SHAKSPERE, King Richard III. Act v. Sc. 3.
LATIMER AND RIDLEY: CRANMER.
Lord William Howard (afterwards Lord Howard, and Lord
High Admiral).
Lord Paget.
Peters (Gentleman of Lord Howard).
Paget. And you saw Latimer and Ridley die? Latimer was eighty, was he not? his best
Look'd somewhat crooked on him in his frieze;
But after they had stript him to his shroud,
He stood upright, a lad of twenty-one,
And gather'd with his hands the starting flame,
And wash'd his hands and all his face therein,
Until the powder suddenly blew him dead.
Ridley was longer burning; but he died.
As manfully and boldly, and, 'fore God,
I know them heretics, but right English ones.
If ever, as heaven grant, we clash with Spain,
Our Ridley-soldiers and our Latimer-sailors
Will teach her something.
Peters, how pale you look! you bring the smoke
Of Cranmer's burning with you.
The smoke of Cranmer's burning wrapt me round.
Howard. Peters, you know me Catholic, but English.
Did he die bravely? Tell me that, or leave
Peters. You saw him how he past among the
And ever as he walk'd the Spanish friars
Still plied him with entreaty and reproach :
But Cranmer, as the helmsman at the helm
Steers, ever looking to the happy haven
Where he shall rest at night, moved to his death;
And I could see that many silent hands
Came from the crowd and met his own; and thus,
When we had come where Ridley burnt with Latimer,
He, with a cheerful smile, as one whose mind
Is all made up, in haste put off the rags
They had mock'd his misery with, and all in white,
His long white beard, which he had never shaven
Since Henry s death, down-sweeping to the chain,
Wherewith they bound him to the stake, he stood
More like an ancient father of the Church
Than heretic of these times; and still the friars
Plied him, but Cranmer only shook his head,
Or answer'd them in smiling negatives;
Whereat Lord Williams gave a sudden cry :-
"Make short! make short!" and so they lit the wood.
Then Cranmer lifted his left hand to heaven,
And thrust his right into the bitter flame;
And crying, in his deep voice, more than once,
"This hath offended-this unworthy hand!"
So held it till it all was burn'd, before
The flame had reach'd his body; I stood near—
Mark'd him he never utter'd moan of pain :
He never stirr'd or writhed, but, like a statue,
Unmoving in the greatness of the flame,
Gave up the ghost; and so past martyr-like.
TENNYSON, Queen Mary, Act iv. Sc. 3.
ATTEND, all ye who list to hear our noble England's
I tell of the thrice famous deeds she wrought in ancient
When that great fleet Invincible against her bore in
The richest spoils of Mexico, the stoutest hearts of
It was about the lovely close of a warm summer day, There came a gallant merchant-ship full sail to Plymouth Bay;
Her crew hath seen Castile's black fleet, beyond Aurigny's isle,
At earliest twilight, on the waves lie heaving many a
At sunrise she escaped their van, by God's especial
And the tall Pinta, till the noon, had held her close in chase.
Forthwith a guard at every gun was placed along the
The beacon blazed upon the roof of Edgecumbe's lofty hall;
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