 Since now I shall be taken from you, I, Henry V, King of France and England, render thanks to God that he calls me when I am of perfect reminence. This I say, my brethren and loving friends, if you love me, you ought to love my child, not for his dessert, but for mine, I charge you all to render your allegiance unto my son, King Henry VI, as touching the estate of my land. I command you to love and join together in one leak and one unfamed amity. I will that my brother, Humphrey, shall be protector of England during the minority of my child, and I command Lord Talbot with fire and sword to persecute Charles, calling himself Dothan, to expel him utterly from our realm of France. When I have gone, I charge you to keep it. I command you to fend it, and I desire you to nourish it. I will be the heavens with black, yield day to night, comets in pouring change of times and states, brandish your crystal tresses in the sky, and with them scourge the bad revolting stars that have consented unto Henry's death. King Henry V, too famous to live long, what should I say? His deeds exceed all speech. He never lift up his hand but conquer it. He was a king blessed of the king of kings, a battle for the lord of hosts, he fought. The church's prayers made him so prosperous. The church? Where is it? Had not churchmen prayed, his threat of life had not so soon decayed. None do you like but an effeminate prince, who like a schoolboy you may overall. Glossier with every life, thou art protector, and luck is to command the prince and the realm. Cease, cease these jars and rest your lives in peace. Henry V, thy ghost I indicate, prosper this realm and keep it from civil broils. A far more glorious star thy soul shall make than Julius Caesar. My humble lords, how can you all, sad tidings bring unto you out of France, of loss, of slaughter, and of his stumpature. Gaen, Companion, Ruan, Rines, Orleans, Bordeaux, the source, Poches, are all quite lost. How have they lost? What treachery was used? No treachery but want of minted money. Amongst the soldiers this is muttering, that here you maintain several factions and whilst the bill should be dispatched and bought, you are disputing amongst your generals. Awake, awake, English nobility, but not sloth, dim your honors, new begotts. Crumped are the Florida Lucent in your arms, of England's coat, one half is cut away. The English army is no wheat and fates, and brave Lord Tobit, craven, fresh supply. Remember, lords, your oath to Henry's court. And as a crowd that you'll find utterly, I'll bring him in obedience to your yoke. All to the tower with all the haste I can, to view vartility and munition. And then I will proclaim Young Henry King. Tell them why, what Young King is, preordained by the special governor, and for his safety they're all bestowed. Each had his place and function to attend, I am left out. For me nothing remains. Gloucester would have the armor from the tower to crown himself king and suppress the prince of formidable Gloucester, God thine head. For I intend to see thee dead. And I suffer saying that I may intend the truth, or else was wrangling a somerset in the air. I think I have been truer to the law, I never yet convinced my will to win, and therefore have been the law, and to my wish I'll choose my lord of war, if them between us. Oh, in all these nice sharp courts of the law, good faith. I am no wiser than a doll. Since you are talk-tied, and so low to speak, in dumb significance, proclaim your thoughts. Let him that is a true-born gentleman, if he suppose that I have pleaded truth, from of this briar, pluck a white rose with me. Let him that is no coward, nor no flatterer, but dare maintain the party of the truth, pluck a red rose from of this thorn with me. I love no color, and without all color, a base insinuates a flattery. I pluck this white rose with contestant. I pluck a red rose with you in somerset here, and say with all I make he held the right. Say it! He upon whose side the fused roses have been barfed from the trees, shall yield the other in a right opinion. Good master Bernard, it is well objected, if I have fused by subscribed in silence. And I! Then for the truth and flameless of the case, I pluck this pale with a manish glance in here, giving my verdict on the white rose. Prick not your finger as you pluck it off, lest the bleeding do paint the white rose red, and fall! Ah! So get to work! Now, Somerset, where is your argument? In my seventh verse, says you that shall die your white rose of bleeding red. Merely add your cheeks to count a bit our roses, for pale lay them with fear, as witness in the truth on our side. No! Montage, it is not for fear but anger that thy cheeks blush, for pure shame to count a bit our roses, and yet thy tongue will not confess thy error. Hath not thy rose a canker, Somerset? But lest thy rose a form, Montage, lest thy rose a form, Montage, lest thy rose a form, Montage, lest thy rose a form, Montage, Ah! Prick, l shall find friends, to where my bleeding rose is, that shall may turn into haib degree, Now, by his name blossom in my hand, I've scarlet thee, and I fixed him! Prair is my king, a way! A way! We graced the yeoman by conversing through it. I thought well that you were Somerset. His grandfather was Lioniel, Duke of Clarens, put some till the third day back to the uh-and ay them! Sir,节 supported yor OWN PRICKSBecause of people who ruined of York, for treason executed in our late king's day, and by his treason standeth not thou a tainted. My father was a patchy, not a tainted, condemned to die for treason by no traitor. And some set the footwell and say thou art well-worn. Thou shalt find us ready for thee still. And there was quite these colors while I froze for these, my friends, in spite of these shall wear. And by my soul best pale and angry rose, as cognizance of my blood-shrinking haze, while I, however, in my faction wear, took willingly to my grave of blood. Don't be choked with thy ambition, and so farewell until I see thee next. Have with thee, Suffolk. Farewell, ambitious yoke, and brave the muster-force jurid. Satisfy myself by proving your opinion of my title, which is infallible to evidence. Sweet York, begin. And if thou claim to go, then war it, is thy subject to command. I claim a right by birth and parentage, but by my mother I derive it out from lying with you, your parents, the third son, to get Edward the third, while Henry, from John of Gordstown, trace his pedigree, being but four of that heroic life. So, if the issue of the elder son succeeds before the younger, I am. What plain proceedings is more plain than this? Henry doth claim the ground from John of Gordstown, your claims are from the third. And so, signal of my love to thee, will I upon thy party wear this rose? My heart assures me that the Earl of Warwick shall one day make the duke of York a king. And Warwick, as I do assure myself, Richard shall live to make the Earl of Warwick the greatest man in England but the king. Here I cross aside this brawl today, brawl to this faction in this temple garden, shall one day send between the red rose and the white a thousand souls to death and then we may... Out, how much it is there! I dare say this quarrel will drink blood another day. Stay, sir. Darestown claim the formal words thou spaced against my lord, the duke of Somerset. This garden, Lord of Honor, as he is... Why? What is he? As good a man as your... He not so... ...magnestic death! Majesty! And great! I may have liberty to banish this wrong head! But thou should see, I'll meet thee to thy cross. Are you serious? I'll be there as soon as you... And after me, you're certainly... The three of you blinds. The three of you have what stupeously to buy? I'm not afraid of waltzing. If thou canst the queue for all the indents, too late on to my charge, with without indention, suddenly, if I, with sudden anticeporeal siege, purpose and answer, what thou canst the... Somerset, my priest! This place commands my patience, or thou shalt find thou hast dishonored me. Well, sir, you think no one but you should swear, no one but you should be about the king, which you shall know. But I am as good a man as good. Thou bastard of my grandfather! By lordly sir, and what are you, I suppose, but one period is in another's room! Am I not protector, saucy priest? My rep! Thou art rep, ranked as touching thy spirit, your function, not thy life! Wrong, my rabies! Wrong, then again! A close applause, sir, and a breach, sir, the special watchmen of our English wheel, a new avail, it prayers, like, the avail to join your hearts in love and anointing. What a scandalous block-out that do such noble peers as he should jar! Believe me, lord, my tender years can tell, civil dissension is a lifeless worm that gnaws the vowels of the common word. Yield, my lord protector, yield, Winchester. She shall submit, or I will never yield. Compassion, all the king commands me to. Behold, my lord, Winchester, the duke banished Moody Disintendent Deary! Well, you're still so stern and tragical. Here, Winchester, I offer thee my hand. I am called Wilbur, I am a virgin preach, the mousers of the greatest previous sin. And will you not maintain with a new teach? For shame, my lord, with us never lies! Why, shall a child instruct you what to do? Well, lord of Gloucester, I yield to thee. Love that I love, hand that I hand, I give thee. But I fear me with a hollow heart. So help me, God, as I disemble not. So help me, God, as I intend it now. Love that I love, hand you to Gloucester. No joy for them, I mean, by this little trend. And this is mine, sweet Henry Faberham. Mutation, lord, is it a leave to sleep? This fellow here, with envious carpet tome, unbraided me about the rose I wear. Saying the sanguine color of the leaves did represent my master's blushing cheeks in computation of which rude reproach and in defense of my lord's worthiness, I crave the benefit of brawl of arms. And that is my petition, nobler, for heath burst the exceptions of this badge, pronouncing the perilous of this flower, berating the greatness of my master's heart. Well, I've made some malice. I'm set to be left. Your pride will grudge, my lord, your plough, yet there's some cunningly you snub. Whose cousin told of you, I can suffer, set quiet of yourselves, I pray, be peace. That this dissension perhaps be tried by fights, and then your highness shall come under peace. The quarrel, such as none but us alone, would switch ourselves to ask the sight of them. A prince shall not do it, no more! How are you not ashamed? My lord, we think you do not well. To bear a reverberate objection, much less for take an agent from their mouths, to raise a mutiny, be twist yourselves, let me persuade you. Take a bear, of course. It greets his hires. Let me be umpire in this doubtful strife. I see no reason if I wear this robe, that anyone should therefore be suspicious. I'm more inclined to somerset than yours. Both are my kinsmen, and I love them both. Cousin of York, we institute your grace to be our regent, in our realm of friends. I hope I love the somerset. Unite your troops of hoistmen with his bands of wood, coatively together, and digest your angry fuss. We may march in England or in France, that seeing what is likely to ensue. This late dissension, grown be twist appears, burns under fainted ashes, a forged love, and one on time, break out into a flame. Now I fear that fatal prophecy, which in the time of Henry V, was in and out with every sucking bait, that Henry Borden, my most should win all, and Henry Borden at Windsor should lose all, which is so plain, Exeter does wish his days may finish at that hapless time. And do him homage as obedient subjects, and I'll let you frown upon this proper piece. You tempt the fury of my three attendants, lean famine, courtry steel, and prime fire, who in a moment, even with the earth, shall lay here stately, and in a braving towers, if you forsake the offer of their love. Thou ominous and fearful out of death, I, nation's terror, and I'm very scourge, the period of thy tyranny approacheth, this bitch, to walk in sport, and bear destruction, misty in thy face, a warning band shall wring thy dagger. If he must carry farewell wars in France, the treachery leader of our English strength, spurred to the rescue of global talent, who now is going with the waste of iron and hand about with grim destruction. God, that summer settling proud heart denies my horsemen were in Talbot's place, then would we save a noble gentleman by fucking a treachery coward? Sending some sucker to the distressed lord? He dies, we lose. I break my war-like word. We mourn, France smiles, we lose. They daily get all along in this foul treacher sunset. Oh, God, take mercy on brave Talbot's soul, and on his sudden young John, who two hours since I've been traveled toward his war-like father, the seven years did Talbot not see his son. Now they meet where both their lives are done. Excellent, very well. No more, my fortune can, but cursed, of course, I cannot help the man. Then, bright, I can't tools on one away, no more of sausage. While the vulture of sedition feeds in the bosom of such great commanders, sleeping in the collection that betrayed the lost, the conquest of our scarce cold conqueror, that ever-living man of memory, who we the fifth, whilst they, each other cross, lives, honors, lands, and all, hurried to loss. My sudden flight, my name Talbot, and am I your son, and shall I fly? To some or not, my mother, the world will say he is not Talbot's blood that basically fled when noble Talbot stood. Fly to revenge, my neath, if I be slain. If the fly still will never turn again. Stay, go, do what you will, the like do I, for live I will not if my father died. Here, I take my leave of being fair son, born to equip my life this afternoon. Vision was by York, and Talbot too rationally flooded the or reaching Talbot, and settled on the boss of former glory with his unequalled desperate wild adventure. Your sentiments of fight and die in shame, the tomb of dead great York might bear the name, let not your private discord keep away the loving suckers that should lend him any. Your sentiment, York should have sentimented. And York is fast upon your grace, exclaimed, showing you with hold his levied horse collected for this expedition. Your lies, you might have sent them out of the horse. I owe you little duty and less love, and thank foul scores have fallen in my saving. The fraud of England, not the force of France, hath now entrapped the noble mind in Talbot. Never dingled in Shelly Bearer's life, but dies betrayed to fortune by Yersha. Come, go, I will dispatch the horse in the strait within six hours, though we have to take it. Too late, come and rest here. Is entertainer's life with the feet be dead, where Talbot then adieu? This fame lives in the world, this shame in you. Dizzy-eyed fury and great rage of heart, chugged the name from my side to start. Into the clustering battle of the French, and in that sea of blood, my boy did drench his over-mounting spirits, and their guide, Mike Icarus, wasn't in his pride. Oh, it's young Talbot! Where is my Talbot? Triumph and death smeared with captivity. Young Talbot's valor makes me smile. Now, those wounds become heart-free from death. Speak to thy father, and love him, rather than breath. My spirit can no longer bear these hearts. Soldiers, adieu. I have what I would have. Now, my old arms are young John Talbot's grave. Tuts leave up with reverent hands. Who art thou? Say that I might honor thee. Margaret, my name, a doctor to a king. The king of Naples, who swear thou art. And Earl, I am in Suffolk. Am I called? Be not offended, nature's miracle. Thou art allotted to be tamed by me. But if this servile usage once offended, go and be free again, and stop your spread. For stay, I have no heart to play. Go, but if the free Earl of my heart says no. Say Earl of Suffolk, if thy name be so, I am not Manson. Must I be before I pass? For I do seem I am thy prisoner. She's beautiful, and therefore to be woody. She is a woman, and therefore to be one. Will thou accept her, Manson? Yeah, you'll know. Don't man-remember thou, thou hast no wife. How then can't Margaret be thy parent boy? He talks of random. Sure, the man is mad. I'll pin this lady, Margaret, for whom? My father, King! Touch there's a wooden thing. He talks of wood, and it's only carbon. Madam, I have a secret to reveal. All right. He's called. He seems, and I will have you at his door. Lady, thou save, and listen to what I say. Perhaps I shall be rescued by the French, and then I need not crave his curtain. Sweet madam, give me hearing and a call. Touch women have been captivated there, now. Lady, wherefore talk you shy! I cry, you mercy, keep watch with forequo. Would you not suppose your bondage happy to be made a queen? To be a queen in bondage is more vile than is a slave that makes civility, for princes should be free. And so shall you. I'll undertake to make thee Henry's queen to put a golden scepter in thy hand, to set a precious crown upon thy head, if thou wilt condescend to be my... What? His love. I am unworthy to be a Henry's wife. No, ma'am, dame, I unworthy am. Who so fair a day to be his wife? I say you, Margaret, are you so content? And if my father, please, I am content. I'll crave a parlor to confer with him. Very well, sweet madam. But haught you, Margaret? No, princely commendations to my king. Such commendations as becomes a maid, a virgin, and his servants say to him... But madam, I strut thee again. No loving tokens for his majesty. Yes, my good lord, a pure, unspotted heart, never yet taint with love I send to the king. And this would though thyself, for I would not so presume to send such pivish tokens to a king. So listen, Henry, with her wondrous praise, that may bereave him of his wits with wonder, for so my fancy shall be satisfied, and peace establisheth between these realms. Margaret shall be queen and rule the king, but I will rule both her, the king, and realm. May humbly sue unto your excellence to have a godly peace concluded up between the realms of England and of France. Well, my lord, and as the only means to stop the fusion of our Christian blood. Aye, merry uncle, for I always thought it was both impious and unnatural that such a magnitude of bloody strife should rule among professors of one faith. Your wondrous rare description of what all the beauties marveled hath astonished me. And what is more, she is not so divine, so full of wheat with choice of all delight, but with the humble loneliness of mine she is content to be of your command. Commander Meena Berger was chased in tents to love and honour Henry as her lord, and otherwise would Henry never presume. Therefore, my lord, protect her, give consent that Margaret may be even to her queen. So should I give consent to flatter sin. You know, my lord, your highness seems to trove of what another lady never seen. How shall we be dispensed with that contract and not deface your honour with withro? Let the rule of myth unlawful oaks that therefore may be broke without offence of poor Earl's daughter is unequal. Why, when I pray, is Margaret more than that? Oh, yes, my lord, her father is a king, the king of Naples and Jerusalem, and of such great authority of friends that his alliance will confirm our peace and keep the Frenchmen in allegiance. And you know, my lord, and you can talk with me that Margaret may be even for your queen. And you, good uncle, banish all things. The happiest gift that ever, Marquess, gave the fairest queen that ever king received. Something arise. Welcome, Margaret. I can express no kinder side of love than this kind kiss. Oh, lord, that make me like Henry, our heart replete of thankfulness for that must give me, in this beauteous face, a world of earthly blessings to my soul if sympathy alone unites my thoughts. Great king of England and my gracious lord, the mutual conference that my mind had had by day, by night, waking and in my dreams, in courtly company or at my beads, with you, my noblest son, makes me the bolder to salute my king with rude utterance, such as my wit of forts, and overjoy of a heart of menacing. Persecutors, but for grace in speech makes me from wandering fold to weeping joy, such as the fullness of my heart's intent. Lord, with one cheerful voice, welcome my love. Long live the great margarit, England, for 18 months, concluded by context. In grace, it is agreed between the French king Charles and William de la Paul Marquess of Suffolk and that of it to Henry, king of England, that the said Henry shall his spouse, the lady margarit, daughter of Renée, king of Naples, Sicilian Jerusalem, and crowned by the Duchy of Honjou and the county of Maine shall be released and delivered unto the king of... Honourable, how now? Pardon my lord, some sudden qual that struck me at the heart who dipped in my eyes that I could read no further. Also agreed between the two that the Duchy of Honjou and Maine shall be released and delivered to the king her father. She shall be sent over of the king of England's own cost and proper charges without having any dowry. They please us well. Lord Marquess, may I now? We here create thee the first duke of Suffolk and go thee with the sword. Because of the yoke, we here discharge her grace from the region in the budget ranks till the term of 18 months people would fly. My lords, we thank you all for entertainment to my princely queen. Come, let us have a man without speed provide to see her coronation be performed. You company must unload his grief. Your grief, the common grief of all the land. What did my brother Henry spilt his youth? He is now a coin and people in the wars who conquer France is true inheritance. Have you yourselves, Somerset, York and Warwick received deep scars in France and Normandy to keep by strategy what Henry got? Perhaps my Uncle Buffett and myself with all the learned council of the realm studied so long debating to and fro how France and Frenchmen might be kept in awe and shall these labours and these honours die. What will appear to be the shameful is this leak. Faithful this marriage, canceling your fame undoing all is all he never did. Nephew, why this passion in this course is pure ancient for such argument for France cheers ours and we will keep it still. Hi Uncle, we will keep it if we can but now it is impossible we should. Suffolk, the new made duke that rules the roost gives away the duchy aboms you and me. Now by the death of them that died for all these counties were the peace of Normandy. But Suffolk, duke may he be Suffolk hate that digs the honour of this warlike isle is all our travel turns to this act. After the slaughter of so many men who sold their bodies for their country's benefit shall we at last conclude a feminine peace, old Warwick. I foresee with grief the utter loss of all our realm of France. Lorette, it was kings that had large sums of gold and dowry for their wives and Archie Henry gives away his own to match with her who brings them vantages. She should have stayed in France and starved in France. I don't think of Gloucester now, he grow too hot. It was the pleasure of my lord of the heath. Ah, my lord of Winchester, I know your mind. It is not my speeches that you do mislike, but it is my presence that doth trouble you. Ranker will out, proud prelate. In my face, I see thy fury. If I longer stay, we shall begin our ancient bickering. Lordings, farewell. And say when I am gone, I prophesy, France will be lost, their law. That's very enraged. He tells you that he is my enemy, they whore an enemy unto you all, and no great friend I fear needs to be given. Consider, Lord. He is the next of blood, the heir of her, and to the English crowd, the common people of, favoured him calling him Humphrey, good, good, good, good, good, Gloucester. I give you, Lord, with all this flattering loss, he will be found to be a dangerous protector. Why, should he then protect our sovereign, he being about to govern of himself? My cousin Osama said, join you with me, and all together, as you decide, and we will quickly hoist this duke Humphrey from his seat. This way, this is what Humphrey will do, and you'll do the suffix presently. Lord of York, the Humphrey's pride and greatness of this place be grieved to us, yet no one wants to haunt me. If Gloucester be displaced, he'll be protected. Our eye shall be protected, our warwick, despite Duke Humphrey or the cardinal. Do you, as I do in these dangerous days, wink at the Duke of Suffolk's insolence, at Beaufort's pride at Somerset's ambition, till they have snagged the shepherd of the flock, that virtuous prince for good Duke Humphrey? It is that they seek, and they in seeking that shall find their deaths of York and Prophecy. The Lord break off. I know your mind is full. O'er you and me are given to the French. How many stans on at the Tickle Point now they are gone, cold news for me, for I have hopes of France. In as I have of England's fertile soil, Suffolk concluded on the art, because the peers agreed, and Henry was well pleased, to change to Duke Humphrey Duke's fair daughter. Well, I cannot blame them all. What tis to them tis mine they give away, and not their own. And they will come when I shall claim the crown, and for that's the golden mark I seek it against. Nor shall the proud of Lancaster insert my rights, nor hold that sector in his childish fist, nor whether dine upon his head, whose talks like you must fix not. What shall we wait? Or other to be seen? To pry into the secrets of the saints. To Henry's serpent in the joys of love, with his new queen and England's dear Lord Bride, and Humphrey with the peers, the important jars. Then shall I raise her up, in your white rose and ooze and smell, the air shall be perfumed. And in my staggered, barely arms of York to grapple with the house of Lancaster. Force for force, I'll make him yield the crown, whose bookish rule have hold faith in Stalin. What, chelking Henry B, a pupil still under the certainly blossomed governance, am I a queen in title and in style, and must be made a subject to a duke? I thought Henry resembled thee in courage, courtship, and proportion, but all in his mind is bent to holiness, to number allelories on his beans, his champions of the prophets and apostles, his weapons, holy saws of sacred writ, his study is his till-yard, and his loves of raised images of canonized saints. I would the College of Cardinals would choose him pope and carry him to Rome and set the triple crown upon his head, that were a state fit for his holiness. Madam, be patient as I was caused, your highness came to England, so will I in England work your braces open then. Beside our hearty protector have we both heard the imperious churchmen, some who said warring and rumbling York, and not the least of these but can do more in England than the king. Madam, listen to me. Although we fancy not the Cardinal, yet must we join with him and with the lords who brought you come free in disgrace, then one by one will wean them all at last and you yourself shall see here that happy hail. The regent of the realm of France or Somerset or York alls one to me. York have they all demeaned himself in France? Then let him be denied the reachenship. If Somerset, beyond work, is the place that you'll be reaching toward you, not to him, but whether your grace be worthy or not, dispute not. That York is the worthy. And it is while I let thy betters speak. The Cardinal's not my better in the field. All in his presence thou thy betters wallow. Please, hunkle and show some reason to us all why Somerset should be preferred in this. Because the king was soon to land its own. Madam, the king is old enough himself to give his cincher. These are no women's matters. If he old enough what needs of grace to be protector of these exiles? Madam, I am protector of the realm and at his pleasure will reside my place. Reside it then and leave that insolence. Since thou art king and who is king but thou, the commonwealth hath daily run to wrack. The problem's half been wracked with the purgatory flag the land can lean from thy sorghum. Thy sultuous buildings and thy wife's attire have got a massive public treasure. That is true. Opposites and towns in France, if they were known as the Somerset, this great would make thee quickly hot without thy hand. As for thy spiteful, false objections, prove them and I lie open to the law. But God in mercy, so do with my soul, as I in duty love my king and country. But to the matter that we have in hand, I say, my sovereign, York is meadest man to be your regent in the realm of France. Before I make an action, give me leave to show some reason of no little force why York is most unmead of any man. I tell thee, Suffolk, why I am unmead, first for I cannot flatter thee in pride. Next, if I dare point you to that place, my lord of Somerset will keep me here without this doubt to my old furniture till France be wired to the Dothans' hands. Last time, I danced at Tendon's house, well, till Paris was besieged, furnished and locked. That can I witness and I follow the fact that there were traitors in the land of men. Peace had strong warring. In which a pride was not at home, but peace. Oh, there is a friend of Tyre inside. And I am fished, your holy peace could be in quite all these furious fears or blessed are the peacemakers on earth. Hmm. No, no, no. No, no, no, no. No, no, no, no. My lord accepts this verdict. He and I worthy to have any voice, the lady Eleanor, the protector's wife, has practised dangerously against your state, dealing with witches and with conjurers whom we have apprehended in the fact. Raising of wicked spirits from underground, demanding of King Henry's life and death. And other, on your right, is to be pleased to have you as more of a great challenge. Oh, God, what mischiefs were the wicked ones? He was a confusion on their own. I say, my master, see, hear, the tincture of thine nest, and myself be faultless our best. Madam, for myself to heaven I do appeal. How I have loved my King and Carmelville, but for my wife I know not how it stands. Sorry I am to hear what I've heard. Noble she is, but if she have forgot honour and virtue and conversed with such as like to pitch, defile, nobility, I banish her my bed and company and give her as a prey to law and shame that hath dishonoured Gloucester's honest name. I beseech your majesty, give me relief to go. You, Gloucester, ere I go, give up my staff. Henry will do it himself, protect me, and God will be my hope, my say, my guide, my lantern to my feet, and go to me some pain for less than one hour, protect you than I can. Give up your staff, sir, and the King in his realm. My staff. Yes. Noble he is my staff. As willingly, you are to say, your turn is heirs by father, Henry may define, and even as willing on my feet I leave it, as others would ambitiously receive it and well be king. When I am dead and gone, they all in the peace to my throne. And Margaret Queen, Gloucester scants himself. Let's look into this business thoroughly and call these foul offenders to their suits and go to the terrible lack of evidence. Let's pour use to the cause and justice equal scales, whose been sent short, whose rightful cause prevailed. Can't you not see and really not observe how insolent the late years become, disdaining the beauty that to us belongs? Small curves are not regarded when they grin, but great men tremble when the lion roars. And Humphrey is no little man in England. First note that he is near you in descent and should you fall, he is next to a mount. By gladria he won the common's hearts. And when he pleases to make commotion, it is to be feared they all will follow him. Now, tis the spring and weeds are shallow-rooted. Suffer them now and then overgrow the garden and choke the herbs for want of a husbandry. My lords of Suffolk, Winchester and York, reprove my allegation if you can, or else conclude my words in factual. Well, if your hind is seen into this duke and how it has been put to speak my mind, I think I should have told your racist tale. Smooth runs the water when it broke he is deep and in his simple shell he harbors trees. Indeed, my sovereign, roster is a man unsounded yet and full of deep deceit. But, lords, once the care you have on us to mow down thorns that would annoy our good is worthy praise. But, should I speak my conscience, our kinsman Gloucester is as innocent from being trees into our royal present as is the suckling lamb or harmless dove. What's more dangerous than this fond appliance seems he had dug his feathers are but borrowed. Take heed, my lord, the welfare of us all hands on the gutting short that fraudful man. All happiness to my lord the king. Pardon my lord that I have stayed so long. Nay, Gloucester, know that thou had come too soon and lest thou win more loyal than thou art at the resty of our trees in the year. Well, sacks, duke, thou shalt not see me blushed. Who is can accuse me? Where in am I guilty? Thou art, my lord, that ye took brides of France and be protectors save the soldiers' pay for the means whereof his highness had lost. Is it but that so? What do they could think it? They never robbed the soldiers of their pay, nor never had one pity bride from France. That coin that ever I hoarded to my use be brought against me at the judgment day. In your protectorship you did devise strange torches for offenders. Never heard of them. That England was defamed by fear which is well known that whilst I was protector pity was all the fault that was in me. So help me, God, as I watch the night by night in stumbling good terrain. Well, hath your highness answered these charges that my dear crimes are laid under your charge where we cannot easily purge yourself at your resty in his highness' name in here cometh thee to, my good lord, cardinal to keep until the further time of trial. My lord of Blossom, it's my special hope that you will clear yourself of all suspect. My country tells me your answer. O my lord, these days are dangerous. Virtue is choked with foul admission and charity chased hencewith great at hand. Foul subonation is predominant and equity exiled your highness' rank. I know their combat is to have my life and if my death might make this island happy and prove the period of eternity I wouldn't spend it with all willingness. Mine is made the prologue to their claim for thousands more that yet suspect no peril will not conclude their plotted tragedy. Opened, red, sparkling eyes, blab, his heart's malice in sun's cloudy brown, his stormy hate sharp sunsets and burdens with his tongue the envious lobe that lies upon his arm and dogged york that reaches at the moon whose overweening arm I have plucked back by false accused at level at my life and you, my sovereign lady with the rest causeless and laid disgraces on my hand and with your best endeavor has stirred up my wiefest liege to be my enemy. I, all of you have laid your heads together in all to make away my guiltless life. My liege is rage and tolerance. I think that's what our sovereign lady is with the prickly cat. The lightning of the losing lead to shine far true as spoken in it. I lose indeed. Be shrew the winners for they blame me false. Now where's the sense and hold us the whole day? Lord Cardinal, he is your prisoner. First, take the duke and guard him, sure. Thus King Henry grows brave and crutch whose all his legs be firm to bear his body thus is the shepherd beaten from that side and wolves are nothing who shall know the best under my feet. What's what to do? Wisdom, sin, mess, do, or undo, as in our summer. What money or eye is needed? I, Margaret, my heart is drowned with grief. Uncle Henry, I'm grief. In thy face I see the man of honor, truth and loyalty. And yet little breeze there which come then ere I prove thee false for fear, thy grace. What lowering star! M.D.'s thy estate that these great lords and Margaret, our queen, do seek some virtue and learn harmless life. And if it is them wrong, nor know them wrong. But as the butcher takes away the cat and binds the wretch and beats it where it strains, burying it to the bloody slaughterhouse in so remorseless have they bought him hence. There's the dam, runs lowing up and down, looking the way her harmless love one went, and can do not but wail for bowing sloths. And so myself, beware as the Gloucester's case, with sad, unhelpful tears, and with damned eyes, will separate him and cannot do him good. So mighty are his bowed enemies. His fortunes I will reap. And twitched each groan, say, who's a traitor? Gloucester, he is none. Free lords, cold snow melts with the sun's hot beams. Henry, my lord, is cold in great affairs, too full of foolish pity. Believe me, lords, this blast shouldn't be quickly rid of the world to rid us from the beard we abrogate. That he should die is worthy policy, but yet he want the color for his death. To see that he condemned my course of law. But, in my mind, there were no policy. The king will later sell to save his life. The commons happily rise to save his life. So do not stand on quillets. How to slay him, be it by jinns, by sands, by subtlety, waking or sleeping, tis no matter how so he may be dead. This resolutely spoke. Not resolutely, except so much would done. Say but the word, I would be his priest. But I would have him, I would want to suck it. There you can take two mourners for a praise. Say you consent. Consent your well deed, and I will provide his executioner. I tender so, that safely at my leave. It is my hand, and the deed is worthy doing. Then some say I. And I? And now we three have spoken. It scales not brightly, who impunes our dooms. Great lords, come Ireland, and my commomane, to sycify the rebels their arrow, and put the Englishman under the sword. It sounds the curse, lords, to suffer great return. The briefs that create a quick experience, that my lord of yore, travel to Bodgernest. To Ireland, will you lead a band of men? If I am happy, it is the Irishmen. Aye, well, my lord, so please, it's majesty. Why, our authority is his consent, and what will you establish, he confirms. My noble lord of yore, take down this task in hand, the return we do to the halls to come forth. No more of him for Ireland. And henceforth he shall call us no more. My lord, I suffer. Within fourteen days at Bristol, I expect my soldiers. From there, I'll ship them all time. I'll see it truly done, my lord of yore. I'm your own enemy, is that it? Well, I'll taste quality clay done, to send me packing with a host of men, because men I act, and you will give them to me. I take it kindly. If you weren't sure, do you put sharp weapons in any madman's hands? Was I, as a mighty man, a world-shake of evil, some black storm, shall blow ten thousand souls to heaven or hell? And this foul temper shall not cease to rage, and so that golden crown sits on my head. And, very minister of my intent, I have seduced a headstrong Kentishman, John Cade of... Ashford! You make the motion! I fall when he may, under the title of John Mortimer. By this I shall perceive the commons' might, how they affect the house and claim of yore. I say that to be taken, scratched! I know no pain they can inflict upon him, will make him say I moved into those arches, and say they thrive! Has he's great like he made? Why then, provide and come out with my strength to reap the harvest which that koistral sowed, for hungry may death, as he shall be, and Henry set aside. This command, I was, I must confess, great ambient queen in former adoraday, but now this chance hath trod my title down. Then, Queen Margaret, I must tell you, I grieve it shall be eased, if France can yield a relief. Those gracious words revive my drooping thoughts, and give my tongue-tied sorrows, lead to speak. Now, therefore, be known to noble Louis, that Henry has become a banished man, proud and vicious Edward, Duke of York. You've served the riddle title of deceit of England's true anointing lawful king. This is the cause that I, poor Margaret, with this, my son, Prince Edward, Henry's heir, have come to crave thy just and lawful aid, because all our hope is done. But look where comes the breeder of my sorrow, for this is he that moves both wind and tide. What's he approaching for me to our prison? Our warring Edward's greatest friend. Welcome, brave one. To France. From worthy ever king of Albion, my lord and sovereign and thy power friend. Both. And I feel at love. First to the greetings to your royal person. And then, to grave, I need to confer that amity with no shall not, if thou art fit to grant the virtuous lady boner, thy fair sister to England's king in lawful marriage. If that no forward Henry's hope is done. Gracious madam, in our queen's behalf, I favor humbly to kiss your hand with my tongue. And as people here have placed thy beauty's image, and thy virtue. King Louis and Lady Bonner, hear me speak before you and Sir Warwick. His demands are not from Edward's well-meant honest love, but from deceit, read by necessity, for our entitlement safely govern all the rest, abroad they purchase great reliance. Well, enjoy yourself, Margaret. And why not, queen? Because thy father Henry did you serve, and no more are prince than she is queen. Queen Margaret brings Edward and Exeter, a direct request to stand aside while I use further conference with Warwick. Heaven's grant works words bewitch him not. Now tell me, Warwick, in upon thy conscience, he is Edward's icon king. For I will loathe to link with him that were not love and children. They're on, I call, my credit, and my honor. But is he gracious? It's a people's high. More than Henry was unfortunate. The father, all the semblance set aside, tell me for truth the measure of his love and to our sister, Bonner. Such it seems as may be seem a monarch like himself. Myself have often heard him say, and swear that this his love was an eternal plant. Whereof its root was fixed in virtue's ground, its leaves of fruit maintained with beauty's sun, except from envy, but not from disdain, unless the lady Bonner quit this pain. Now, sister, let us hear your firm measure. Your grant, all you deny will be mine. Yet I confess that often there is a stay when I have heard your king's desert break-hearted. My mirror can be judgment to desire. Then what it was? Our sister shall be Edward, the drabier, quid marborette, and be a witness that Bonner shall be wife to the English king. I am straightforward, my super-poly icon, Louis Henry's friend. I still is friend to him and marborette, yet if your titles as a crown be weak, as may appear by Edward's good success, it is but reason that I be released from giving aid, which late I promise say, that shall you have all kindness at our hand as though a state of quiet at mine can be. Henry, having nothing, nothing can he lose. And as for you yourself, our golden queen, you have a father able to maintain you and better toy your trouble him than France. Peace impudent and shameless warric peace. From center-up and puller-down of kings, I will not fence to with my talk and tears, both full of truth. I make King Louis the old, I sly conveyance, and I know his false love for both are birds of self-same feather. My Lord Ambassador, this letter is for you. This from our king unto your majesty. And madam distrae you from who I am. I like it well that our current queen mistress smiles at her news from where it frowns it is. Nay, Mark, but Louis says that he wouldn't handle I hope it's all for the best. Yeah! Well, leak! I tell you our news and yours, fair queen, mine such as smell my heart with unholy joys. I'm full of sorrow and heart's distance. What? As your king married the Lady Grey, and now to soothe your forgery and his, sends me a paper to persuade me patience. Is this the alliance that he seeks with France? Dare he presume to stall us in this manner? I told your majesty as much before this, prove it Edward's love and warric's honesty. Thank you, Louis. I hear protest in sight of heaven that I am clear of this misdeed of Edward's. No more my king for he dishonors me. And to repair my honor lost for him, I hear his pass. And henceforth I am thy true servitor. I'll revenge his wrong to Lady Bonah and replant Henry in his former state. Warric? These words have turned Miami to love, and I forget my forgetful faults and join in helping those king and his friends. Ah ha, so met his friend, I, his unfaithful friend, that if King Louis bouts safe to furnish us with some few bans of chosen soldiers, I'll undertake to land them on our coast and force the tyrant from his seat by war, since not his new aid brides will succour him. Dare he England's messenger return in post? And dare he false Edward, that supposed king, that near France is sending over masters to revel it with him and his new bride. Thou ceased what's past, go feel, as I came with the word. Tell him enough to prove that we do it shortly, and where's the will of Garland for his sake? Tell him my morning means are laid aside and I am ready to put on run. Tell him from me that he had done me wrong, and therefore I will crown him air be long. Now! With five thousand men shall cross the seas and be the false Edward batter, and, as occasion serves, this noble queen and prince shall follow with a fresh supply. Hm, yes, absolutely. Good answer, we wonder. What pledge have we of thy firm loyalty? This shall assure my constant loyalty, that if the queen and the young prince agree, I'll join my eldest daughter and my joy with him forthwith in holy Wynlock banks. With all my heart, and thank you for your motion, setting which she is fair and virtuous. And good pledge, my belly, with my hand. Westering now, these soldiers shall be levied, I long, dear Edward Ford, by war's mischance, for knocking carriage with a ding of France. He turned his sworn and mortal foe, and even enough to make a stale of me, the nun but I shall turn his jest to sorrow. I was the chief that raced into the crown, and I'll be chief to bring him down again. I'm not but a pity, Henry's misery, but super-venge, and a wretched mockery. Not our brother made a worthy choice, alas, he noticed, pardoned, France, how could he say no more if he may return? Well, here comes the king and his well-chosen bride, with her brother, and him promoted rivers. As if off-mountain tents, as well as loose, France, in the early morning, with sweet courage and judgment, and nothing no offense in our views. Suppose they take offense, without a cause, they are but Lewis and Warwick. I am Edward, your king and Warwick, so must have my will. And you shall have your will, because, Al-King, yet hasty marriage, sell the crew with wealth, and ye, by the rich, are you offended, too? I know. Ah, forbid, I just wish they're pardoned, whom God hath joined together. I hath repented to some of them that yoke so well together. Setting your scores and your mislikeness aside, tell me some reason why the Lady of Grace should not become my wife, Hannington's queen. Then this is my opinion. Lewis becomes your enemy, mocking him about the marriage of the Lady of Honor. And Warwick, doing what you gave in charge, is now dishonored by this new marriage. What if both Louis and Warwick be appeased by such invention as I could devise? Yet to have joined with France in such a line for the more strengthen that some commonwealth can sport and storm than any home-read marriage. Why knows not Clarence that of itself England is safe if true within itself? But the betterment is backed by France. Is better fusing France than trusting France. Let us be backed with God and with the seas which ye have given for fencing, bring them all in them and in ourselves our safety lies. But this one speech, Lord, the people have been well-deserved to have the air and the tire of the loaded sails. I thought of that it was my will and grudge before this once, my will shall stand for long. And yet, me think, sure Grace have not done well to give her to the brother of your bride. She better would have fit in me, or Clarence. But in your bride you bury brotherhood. Alas, poor Clarence. Is it for a wife that thou art not content? I would provide thee infusing for yourself to show me your judgment, which being shallow and you shall give me leave to play the brotherhood on my only hand. Into that is I shortly mine to leave you. To leave you. Clarence! Edward will be king and of the tide unto you brother lords. Before I please His Majesty to raise my stake to title and queen, do me provide that you must all confess that I was not ignoble of dissent, and me who to myself have had life fortune to ask this title ofness both me and mine. So your dislikes to whom I would be pleasing will clarify joys of danger and with sorrow what danger or what sorrow can be so long as it ends thy constant friend. And they are true sovereign who they must obey, nay, who they shall obey and love thee too unless they seek for hatred at my hands. I hear, yet sing that much, but think no more. Now, brother of Clarence, what news from France? What arms shall it skin Lewis unto our letters? Go tell false Edward, thy supposed king, that Lewis of France is sending over massacres to revel it with him at his new bride. It is Lewis so brave the like he thinks me Henry. But what said Warwick unto our marriage? Warwick? Go tell him from me that he hath done me wrong. Therefore I'll uncrown him, ere it be loathed. But as the train had breathed out so proud words, but I round thee be thus forewarned, they shall have wars and pain for that presumption. But say, is Warwick friends with Margaret? By gracious sovereign, they are so linked in friendship that young Prince Edward marries Warwick's daughter. Be like the elder Clarence will have the younger. Now, brother King, farewell and sit you fast for I'll hence to Warwick's other daughter, that though I want to kingdom yet in marriage I may not prove inferior to yourself. You would love me and Warwick, follow me. Yes, all we are armed against the worst can happen. But, Richard, will you stand by us? Aye, in despise of all that shall withstand my son and I am sure of victory. We'll march towards Warwick and his mates for where I want, Henry is no soldier. Tractor of Clarence! How are we for the perceived thing to flatter Henry and forsake like brother? Now let we'll march against and lose no hour till we meet Warwick and his foreign power. It is here that I must confess our full of grief and gracious system bury as you may. Warwick may move as well as win the day till then fair hope must hid the life's decay and I'd rather weep from despair for the love of Edward's offspring in my womb. I'll henceforth with him to the sanctuary to save at least the heir of Edward's right there. Shall I rest in force and fraught? Come, therefore, brother of us, let us lie if Warwick takes us to make sure to die. Edward sweeps along. Speak subtly, my lord. Fear not that, my lord. How does to rest distrustful where a noble heart hath drawn an open hand in the sign of love? I find I think that Clarence, Edward's brother, were but a fainted friend to our proceedings. Good rockin', sweet Clarence. My daughter shall be done. It's sportful, Edward's tongue. Now Warwick, will down kneel for grace, call Edward King, and at his hands beg mercy, and we will pardon thee these outrages. Nay, rather. What thou drawin' hosest his? Confess and set thee up and put thee down. Call Warwick patron and be penitent, and thus art still remain the Duke of York. I thought at least he would have sent the king to aside his weakling. Warwick takes his gift again. And Henry is my king. But Warwick's king is Edward's prisoner, and if you intend to one, you'll meet him in the town. Come on, take the time. Kneel down. Kneel down! I would rather take this hand and chop it off of the blow, and put the other finger at thy face than best a lower sail to strike the knee. And lo, where George of Clarence stands by me with whom an upright zeal to right prevails, more than the nature of a brother's love, come, Clarence, come. Thou wilt if Warwick call. Come, Clarence, come. Thou wilt if Edward call. Who you are to speak? Throw my ear from thee at thee. I will not ruinate my father's house who gave his blood till I am stone together and set up Lancaster. What's wrong with Star Wars? The Clarence is so harsh, to blunt, unnatural, to bend the fatal instruments of war against his brother and his lawful king. Perhaps I will reject this holy oath to keep that oath for more impiety. I am so sorry for my trespass made that to do serve well at thy brother's hands, I here proclaim myself by mortal foe. And so, proud hearty Warwick, I defy thee until my brothers turn my blushing cheeks, pardon me, Edward, I will make amends, and, Richard, do not fend upon my faults for I will henceforth be no more unconstant. I am more welcome and ten times more beloved than if thou never hath deserved our hate. Welcome, Marys. This is brotherlike. Oh, passing traitor. Hunter! I bid thee battle, I bow here. This is thou death! Yes, Warwick, Edward dares and leads the way. Look! Who, thirst, spiral, will Warwick bet his brass? As we can. Cossigan! I am queen from France, and I am a prison power! Say yourself, for Warwick bids you all farewell. Queen's great power! For this bright shining day, I spy a black, suspicious, threatening cloud. I mean my lord's, those powers that the Queen of Wraith in Gallia have arrived our coast. And as we here march on tough. If she had me to breathe be well assured, her facts will be full as strong as ours. We are assured by our loving friends that they do hold their course for tukes free. We don't did that straight. Quiet, Cossigan! Watch, redress their arms. And though unskillful, why not next? Once allowed to skillful pilots charge, we will not come to hell to sit and weep but keep our course. Though the Rockwinds say no, from shells and rocks that threaten us with wreck. And what is ever but a ruthless sea? What, Clarence, but a quicksand of deceit. And Richard, but a ragged, fatal rock. All these, the enemies to our poor bark. Say you can swim a last piece but a while. Tread on the sand, why there you quickly sink. Bestride the Rock, the tide will wash you off. Or else you vanish. That's a threefold death. This speak I, lords, to let you understand in case someone of you would fly from us. That there's no hope for mercy with the brothers more than with ruthless waves, with sands and rocks. Why, Curtis said, what cannot be awarded for a childish weakness to lament or fear? Speak to a woman of disbellion's spirit. Surely if a coward heard her speak, these words infuse his breast with magnanimity and make her pay for this, for effort is at hand. I thought no less. It is his apology to haste us to find some provider. But he's deceived we are in readiness. Henry, your king is prisoner to the foe. His saint, you served. His realm is slaughterhouse. His subjects slain. His statues cancelled and his treasures spent. And yonder is the wolf that makes this spoil. You fight injustice. Then in God's name goers be valiant and he is single to the fight. Nay, never bear me hence dispatched me here. Here, she thy sword, how pardon thee my death. What wilt thou now do, Clarence? Clarence, do it thou. I have not will not do thee so much evil, Clarence. Do it, sweet Clarence. I swear I would not do it. I am Swiss, the hard-favorite devil. Richard! Richard! All in host and as I guess to make a bloody supper. Salt with pay and thanks and let's away to London. And see our gentle queen, I hope she hath a son for me. So come to you and yours as to this. Book so hard. Nay, my lord. For sin to flatter, good, who are little feather, good Gloucester and good devil were alike. But wherefore doth thou comeest for my life? Since thou I am an executioner, hath thou been killed when the first man was presumed. Thou hath not lived in Gloucester's mind. Thou's thy father's eye. There many a thousand and I was so partial of my fear. Many an old man's sigh. And many a widow's and many an orphan's water-standing eye. Men for her sons, wives for their husbands, parent-children for their parents' sinless dead, shall rue the hour they never know what's forlorn. And yet, but for less than a mother's hope, the wit and the in-night gesture, and the form of the lump, not like the fruit of such goodly dream. Tink and sound I never know what's forlorn, the secret by the king's thought, like the world, and at the rest be driven. John! Prophet, in thy speech, this among the rest was I will take. Tying in for life's poor slaughter after this. No! Look at my sins. I am kindly. For the aspiring blood of Lancaster sink in the ground, I thought it would mountain. See how my sword weeps. The poor king's death. May such purple tears always be shed from those that wish to doubt the Lord. Then spark of life began permitting. Down! Down to hell! Then straight I set the thinner, I that have neither pity, love nor fear. Indeed, it's true that Henry told me of her. For I've often heard my mother say, I came into this world with my right form, but had I not reason to think of you. Just to make haste and seek their ruin, and you served our rights. The big wife wondered. And the women cried. Oh, Jesus blesses, he informed with tears. So I was. Which plainly signified that I should snarl and bite and play the dog. Then since the heavens have shaped my body so, that hell already croaked my mind to answer it. I have no brother. My wife, no brother. And this word love, which great beards call divine, be residents in men like one another. And nothing of me, but myself alone. Henry and a prince with son are gone. Lawrence! Thy turn is next. Then the rest. Counting myself but bathed, till I be bathed by body in another room. Try it, Henry. Thy day be due. Thine includes I myself, have it not? Have it not on? What's the winter's nights? Gone all the foot in summer's scolding heats, that thou mightst repossess the crown in peace. And of our lame is thou shall reap the gain, and last his harvest there in his cornfield run. By the times, Dostoev, love my lovely queen, and kiss thy princely nephew, brother's wife. By the beauty that I owe to your majesty, I've sinned for the length of this sweet faith. Thanks, little prince. Well, little brother prince. And that I've loved the tree, from one south's grace, to witness the loving kiss, and to give the tree, to say the truth, don't do this, kiss this master, for I'm all him, and as he meant all heart. These saffers are so delight, having our country's peace, and our mother's love. What will your grace have done with Margaret? Await her, waft her heads to the ground. And now, what rests, but that we spend the time, with stately triumphs, motherful comic shows, such as the bits of pleasure of the court. Like a grump and trumpets, farewell, star-annoy, but now I hope begins a lasting joy.