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Are armed both in show and zeal, then gloriously contend, To win and wear the home-brought spoils, of victory the end. Let not the Skinner's daughter son possess what he pre

tends, He lives to die a noble death that life for freedom spends.



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To live upon or lie within this is my ground or grave
(My loving soldiers), one of twain your duke resolves to have.
Nor be ye Normans now to seek in what you should be stout,
Ye come amidst the English pikes to hew your honours out,
Ye come to win the same by lance, that is your own by law;
Ye come, I say, in righteous war revenging swords to draw.
Howbeit of more hardy foes no passed flight hathi sped ye,
Since Rollo to your now-abode with bands victorious led

Or Turchus, son of Troilus, in Scythian Fazo bred ye.
Then worthy your progenitors ye seed of Priam's son
Exploit this business, Rollons do that which we wish be done.
Three people have as many times got and foregone this shore,
It resteth now ye conquer it not to be conquer'd more:

this is my ground or grave.] See the speech of Alris in Claudian, on invading Italy:

Hanc ego vel victor regno, vel morte tenebo
Victus humum,

De Bell. Gent. 530.

For Norman and the Saxon blood conjoining, as it may,
From that consorted seed the crown shall never pass away.
Before us are our armed foes, behind us are the seas,
On either side the foe hath holds of succour and for ease :
But that advantage shall return their disadvantage thus,
observe no shore is left the which


sheiter us, And so hold out amidst the rough whilst they haul in for lee, Whereas, whilst men securely sail, not seldom shipwrecks be, What should I cite your passed acts, or tediously incense To present arms; your faces show your hearts conceive of

fence, Yea, even your courages divine a conquest not to fail. Hope then your duke doth prophecy, and in that hope pre

vail, A people brave, a terrene heaven, both objects worth your

wars, Shall be the prizes of your prow'ss, and mount your fame

to stars. Let not a traitor's perjur'd son extrude us from our right: He dies to live a famous life, that doth for conquest fight.

Albion's England, by W. Warner,

Book IV. Chap. 22.




But ev'ry eye

I all the camp prove traitors to my lord,
Shall spotless Norfolk falsify his word?
Mine oath is past, I swore t' uphold his crown,
And that shall swim, or I with it will drown.
It is too late now to dispute the right,
Dare any tongue, since York spread forth his light,
Northumberland, or Buckingham defame,
Two valiant Cliffords, Roos, or Beaumont's name,
Because they in the weaker quarrel die?
They had the king with them, and so have I.

the face of Richard shuns,
For that foul murder of his brother's sons:
Yet laws of knighthood gave me not a sword
To strike at him, whom all with joint accord
Have made my prince, to whom I tribute bring:
I hate his vices, but adore the king.
Victorious Edward, if thy soul can hear
Thy servant Howard, I devoutly swear,
That to have sav'd thy children from that day,
My hopes on earth should willingly decay ;
Would Gloucester then my perfect faith had tried,
And made two graves, when noble Hastings died.

Rosworth Field, by Sir John Beaumont,

p. 7.


....My fellow soldiers, though your swords Are sharp, and need not whetting by my words; Yet call to mind those many glorious days, In which we treasur'd up immortal praise. If when I serv'd, I ever fled from foe, Fly ye from mine, let me be punish'd so: But if my father, when at first he try'd How all his sons could shining blades abide, Found me an eagle, whose undazzled eyes Affront the beams which from the steel arise, And if I now in action teach the same, Know then, ye have but chang’d your general's name. Be still yourselves, ye fight against the dross Of those, that oft have run from you with loss. How many Somersets, dissention's brands, Have felt the force of our revengeful hands! From whom this youth, as from a princely flood, Derives his best, yet not untainted blood. Have our assaults made Lancaster to droop? And shall this Welshman with his ragged troop Subdue the Norman and the Saxon line, That only Merlin may be thought divine ? See what a guide these fugitives have chose, Who, bred

the French, our ancient foes, Forgets the English language, and the ground, And knows not what our drums and trumpets sound ! EARL OF RICHMOND'S SPEECH.




It is in vain, brave friends, to show the right
Which we are forc'd to seek by civil fight.
Your swords are brandish'd in a noble cause,
To free your country from a tyrant's jaws.
What angry planet, what disastrous sign
Directs Plantagenet's afflicted line?
Ah, was it not enough, that mutual rage
In deadly battles should this race engage,
Till by their blows themselves they fewer make,
And pillars fall, which France could never shake?
But must this crooked monster now be found,
To lay rough hands on that unclosed wound?
His secret plots have much increas'd the flood,
He with his brother's, and his nephews' blood,
Hath stain'd the brightness of his father's flowers,
And made his own white rose as red as ours.
This is the day, whose splendour puts to flight
Obscuring clouds, and brings an age of light,
We see nó hind'rance of those wished times,
But this usurper, whose depressing crimes
Will drive him from the mountain where he stands,
So that he needs must fall without our hands.
In this we happy are, that by our arms
Both York and Lancaster revenge their harms.
Here Henry's servants join with Edward's friends,
And leave their private griefs for public ends.


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