Instead whereof let this supply the room: EDW. Bring forth that fatal screech-owl to our house, That nothing sung but death to us and ours: RICH. O, would he did! and so perhaps he doth : 'Tis but his policy to counterfeit, Because he would avoid such bitter taunts wast wont. RICH. What, not an oath? nay, then the world goes hard When Clifford cannot spare his friends an oath. That I in all despite might rail at him, This hand should chop it off, and with the issuing blood Stifle the villain whose unstanched thirst York and young Rutland could not satisfy. WAR. Ay, but he's dead: off with the traitor's head, And rear it in the place your father's stands. So shalt thou sinew both these lands together; For though they cannot greatly sting to hurt, Yet look to have them buzz to offend thine ears. First will I see the coronation; And then to Brittany I'll cross the sea, To effect this marriage, so it please my lord. EDW. Even as thou wilt, sweet Warwick, let it be; For in thy shoulder do I build my seat, And never will I undertake the thing Wherein thy counsel and consent is wanting. RIC. Let me be Duke of Clarence, George of For Gloucester's dukedom is too ominous. WAR. Tut, that's a foolish observation : Richard, be Duke of Gloucester. Now to London, To see these honours in possession. [Exeunt. ACT THE THIRD, SCENE I. A forest in the north of England. Enter two Keepers, with cross-bows in their hands. FIRST KEEP. Under this thick-grown brake we'll shroud ourselves; For through this laund anon the deer will come; And in this covert will we make our stand, Culling the principal of all the deer. SEC. KEEP. I'll stay above the hill, so both may shoot. FIRST KEEP. That cannot be; the noise of thy cross-bow Will scare the herd, and so my shoot is lost. In this self-place where now we mean to stand. he be past. Enter KING HENRY, disguised, with a prayer-book. K. HEN. From Scotland am I stol'n, even of pure love, To greet mine own land with my wishful sight. No, Harry, Harry, 'tis no land of thine; Thy place is fill'd, thy sceptre wrung from thee, FIRST KEEP. Ay, here's a deer whose skin's a keeper's fee: This is the quondam king; let's seize upon him. K. HEN. Let me embrace thee, sour adversity, For wise men say it is the wisest course. SEC. KEEP. Why linger we? let us lay hands upon him. FIRST KEEP. Forbear awhile; we'll hear a little more. K. HEN. My queen and son are gone to France for aid; And, as I hear, the great commanding Warwick Poor queen and son, your labour is but lost; And Lewis a prince soon won with moving words. Ay, but she's come to beg, Warwick, to give; That she, poor wretch, for grief can speak no more; And in conclusion wins the king from her, To strengthen and support King Edward's place. SEC. KEEP. Say, what art thou that talk'st of kings and queens? K. HEN. More than I seem, and less than I was A man at least, for less I should not be ; [born to: And men may talk of kings, and why not I? SEC. KEEP. Ay, but thou talk'st as if thou wert a king. K. HEN. Why,so I am, in mind; and that's enough. SEC. KEEP. But, if thou be a king, where is thy crown? K. HEN. My crown is in my heart, not on my head; Not deck'd with diamonds and Indian stones, Nor to be seen: my crown is called content: A crown it is that seldom kings enjoy. SEC. KEEP. Well, if you be a king crown'd with content, Your crown content and you must be contented To go along with us; for, as we think, |