Reading The Tragedy of Richard the Third — William Shakespeare

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Der.

I by Attourney, blesse thee from thy Mother,

Who prayes continually for Richmonds good:

So much for that. The silent houres steale on,

And flakie darkenesse breakes within the East.

In breefe, for so the season bids vs be,

Prepare thy Battell early in the Morning,

And put thy Fortune to th'Arbitrement

Of bloody stroakes, and mortall staring Warre:

I, as I may, that which I would, I cannot,

With best aduantage will deceiue the time,

And ayde thee in this doubtfull shocke of Armes.

But on thy side I may not be too forward,

Least being seene, thy Brother, tender George

Be executed in his Fathers sight.

Farewell: the leysure, and the fearfull time

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