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Urs. A glow-worm !
K. Hen. Now, if Frion,
pay their fealty.
K. Hen. Farther off is near enough
Daw. 'Tis a strange conceit, sir.
K. Hen. Such voluntary favours as our people In duty aid us with, we never scatter'd On cobweb parasites, or lavish'd out In riot, or a needless hospitality : No undeserving favourite doth boast His issues from our treasury; our charge Flows through all Europe, proving us but steward Of every contribution, which provides Against the creeping canker of disturbance. Is it not rare then, in this toil of state Wherein we are embark’d, with breach of sleep, Cares, and the noise of trouble, that our mercy Returns nor thanks, nor comfort? Still the West Murmur and threaten innovation,
our government tyrannical,
Deny us what is ours, nay, spurn their lives,
Oxf. It must not, should not.
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. This packet to your sacred majesty.
Daw. Wise Henry
Urs. And conceive your highness fitly.
to a translation higher yet.] i. e. to heaven. Moreton was at this time Archbishop of Canterbury. He died about three years after this period, at the great age of ninety. The king seems to have changed his opinion with respect to Fox, who was removed on the archbishop's death, not to Canterbury, but to Winchester, in which see he died. Moreton and Fox were fast friends ; they rank high among our prelates, and were, in fact, both very eminent
Entire, it were a weakness to admit
K. Hen. Dear friend
Oxf. Command our lives.
forethink. My bishop is a jewel tried, and perfect;. A jewel, lords. The post who brought these
Urs. He waits your pleasure.
The Coast of Cornwall. A general shout within.—Enter WARBECK, Dal
YELL, KATHERINE, and JANE. War. After so many storms as wind and seas Have threaten'd to our weather-beaten ships, At last, sweet fairest, we are safe arrived On our dear mother earth, ungrateful only To heaven and us, in yielding sustenance To sły usurpers of our throne and right. These general acclamations are an omen Of happy process to their welcome lord : They flock in troops, and from all parts, with wings Of duty fly, to lay their hearts before us. Unequall'd pattern of a matchless wife, How fares my dearest yet?
Kath. Confirm'd in health;
Dal. Lady, I return
Jane. I wait but as the shadow to the body, For, madam, without you let me be nothing.
War. None talk of sadness, we are on the way Which leads to victory; keep cowards thoughts With desperate sullenness! The lion faints not Lock'd in a grate, but, loose, disdains all force Which bars his prey, (and we are lion-hearted,) Or else no king of beasts.-[Another general shout
within.]–Hark, how they shout; Triumphant in our cause! bold confidence Marches on bravely, cannot quake at danger.
Enter SKETON. Sket. Save king Richard the Fourth! save thee King of hearts! The Cornish blades are men of mettle; have proclaimed through Bodnam, and the whole county, my sweet prince monarch of England: four thousand tall yeomen, with bow and sword, already vow to live and die at the foot of King Richard.
Enter ASTLEY. Ast. The mayor, our fellow-counsellor, is servant for an emperor. Exeter is appointed for the rendezvous, and nothing wants to victory but courage and resolution. Sigillatum et datum decimo Septembris, anno Regni Regis primo, et cætera; confirmatum est. All's cock-sure !
War. To Exeter! to Exeter, march on : Commend us to our people; we in person Will lend them double spirits; tell them so. Sket. and Ast. King Richard, king Richard !
[Exeunt Sker. and Ast.