Act V, Scene ii: Plain near Tamworth.
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[Enter with drum and colours, RICHMOND, OXFORD, SIR JAMES BLUNT,SIR WALTER HERBERT, and others, with Forces, marching.]
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| | 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. | |
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| | OXFORD: | |
| | Every man's conscience is a thousand swords, | |
| | To fight against that bloody homicide. | |
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| | HERBERT: | |
| | I doubt not but his friends will turn to us. | |
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| | BLUNT: | |
| | He hath no friends but what are friends for fear, | |
| | Which in his dearest need will fly from him. | |
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| | 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. | |
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