Richard III

A Lord
How have you slept, my lord?
Richmond
The sweetest sleep and fairest-boding dreams
That ever entered in a drowsy head
Have I since your departure had, my lords.
Methought their souls whose bodies Richard murdered
Came to my tent and cried on victory.
I promise you, my soul is very jocund
In the remembrance of so fair a dream.
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Norfolk
This found I on my tent this morning.
 He sheweth him a paper.
Richard reads

Jockey of Norfolk, be not so bold.
For Dickon thy master is bought and sold.

A thing devisèd by the enemy.—
Go, gentlemen, every man unto his charge.
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Catesby
Rescue, my lord of Norfolk, rescue, rescue!
The King enacts more wonders than a man,
Daring an opposite to every danger.

A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse!

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.
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Richmond
God and your arms be praised, victorious friends!
The day is ours; the bloody dog is dead.
Stanley, offering him the crown
Courageous Richmond, well hast thou acquit thee.
Lo, here this long-usurpèd royalty
From the dead temples of this bloody wretch
Have I plucked off, to grace thy brows withal.
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