| ACT V. | |
| SCENE II. Plain near Tamworth. | |
| [Enter with drum and colours, RICHMOND, OXFORD, SIR JAMES BLUNT, |
| SIR WALTER HERBERT, and others, with Forces, marching.] |
| RICHMOND. | |
| Fellows in arms, and my most loving friends, |
| Bruis'd underneath the yoke of tyranny, |
| Thus far into the bowels of the land |
| Have we march'd on without impediment; |
| And here receive we from our father Stanley |
| Lines of fair comfort and encouragement. |
| The wretched, bloody, and usurping boar, |
| That spoil'd your summer fields and fruitful vines, |
| Swills your warm blood like wash, and makes his trough |
| In your embowell'd bosoms,--this foul swine |
| Lies now even in the centre of this isle, |
| Near to the town of Leicester, as we learn: |
| From Tamworth thither is but one day's march. |
| In God's name cheerly on, courageous friends, |
| To reap the harvest of perpetual peace |
| By this one bloody trial of sharp war. |
| OXFORD. | |
| Every man's conscience is a thousand swords, |
| To fight against that bloody homicide. |
| HERBERT. | |
| I doubt not but his friends will turn to us. |
| BLUNT. | |
| He hath no friends but what are friends for fear, |
| Which in his dearest need will fly from him. |
| RICHMOND. | |
| All for our vantage. Then in God's name, march: |
| True hope is swift, and flies with swallow's wings; |
| Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings. |
| [Exeunt.] |