SCENE IX.--_The English camp. A fire in the distance.
Enter_ HENRY _and_ RICHARD, _fettered and guarded_.
_Henry_.--Would it were morning, and the hour were come.
For still my heart misgives me, lest our parents
Do, in fond weakness, save us by dishonour!
_Richard_.--Rather than purchase life at such a price,
And have my father sell his faith for me,
And sell his country, I would rather thou,
My brother in my birth and in my death,
Should be my executioner! We know them better!
_Henry_.--Now I seem old and weary of this life,
So joy I in our death for Scotland's sake;
For this death will so wed us to our country,
We shall be old in years to all posterity!
And it will place a blot on Edward's name,
That time may blacken, but can ne'er efface.
_Richard_.--My heart, too, beats as light as if tomorrow
Had been, by young love, destined for my bridal;
Yet oft a tear comes stealing down my cheek,
When I do think me of our _mother_, Henry!
_Henry_.--Oh speak not of our parents! or my heart
Will burst ere morning, and from the tyrant rob
His well-earned infamy.
_Richard_.--Oh! I must speak of them:
They now will wander weeping in their chamber,
Or from their window through the darkness gaze,
And stretch their hands and sigh towards the camp;
Then, when the red east breaks the night away--
Ah! what a sight will meet their eyes, my brother!
_Henry_.
Pages:
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159