Glost. My soul and body on the action, both!
Rich. A dreadful lay! here's to decide it.

[They fight--RICHARD falls. Glost. Perdition catch thy arm !-the chance is

thine!

But, oh! the vast renown thou hast acquir'd,
In conq'ring Richard, dost afflict him more
Than even his body's parting with its soul.
Now, let the world no longer be a stage,
To feed contention in a lingering act;
But let one spirit of the first-born Cain,
Reign in all bosoms; that each heart being set
On bloody actions, the rude scene may end,
And darkness be the burier of the dead.

[Dies.

Enter OXFORD, LORD STANLEY, and SOLDIERS, with KING RICHARD's Crown.

Rich. Oh, welcome, friends! my noble father,

welcome!

Heav'n and our arms be prais'd, the day is ours!
See there, my lords, stern Richard is no more!
Stanley. Victorious Richmond, well thou hast ac-
quitted thee!

And see, the just reward that Heav'n has sent thee:
Among the glorious spoils of Bosworth field,
We've found the crown, which now in right is thine:
"Tis doubly thine, by conquest, and by choice.
Long live Henry the Seventh, King of England!
[Trumpets.

Rich. Next to just Heav'n, my noble countrymen, I owe my thanks to you, whose love I'm proud of; And ruling well shall speak my gratitude.

But now, my lords, what friends of us are missing? Pray, tell me, is young George Stanley living? Stanley. He is, my liege, and safe in Leicester

town,

Whither, if you please, we may withdraw us.

Enter OFFICER.

Offi. My lord, the queen, and fair Elizabeth, Her beauteous daughter, some few miles off, Are on their way, to 'gratulate your victory.

Rich. Ay, there indeed my toil's rewarded!
Let us prepare to meet them, lords—and then,
As we're already bound by solemn vows,

We'll twine the roses red and white together,
And both from one kind stalk shall flourish:
England has long been mad, and scar'd herself;
The brother blindly shed the brother's blood;
The father rashly slaughter'd his own son;
The bloody son, compell'd has kill'd his sire.
Oh, now, let Henry and Elizabeth,
The true successors of each royal house,
Conjoin'd together, heal these deadly wounds!
And be that wretch of all mankind abhorr'd,
That would reduce those bloody days again;
Ne'er let him live to taste our joys' increase,
That would with treason wound fair England's peace!