Queen. But I can give the loser leave to chide.
Glo. Far truer spoke than meant: I lose, indeed;
Beshrew the winners, for they play'd me false! 184
And well such losers may have leave to speak.
Buck. He'll wrest the sense and hold us here all day.
Lord Cardinal, he is your prisoner.
Car. Sirs, take away the duke, and guard him sure. 188
Glo. Ah! thus King Henry throws away his crutch
Before his legs be firm to bear his body:
Thus is the shepherd beaten from thy side,
And wolves are gnarling who shall gnaw thee first.
Ah! that my fear were false, ah! that it were; 193
For, good King Henry, thy decay I fear.
King. My lords, what to your wisdoms seemeth best
Do or undo, as if ourself were here. 196
Queen. What! will your highness leave the parliament?
King. Ay, Margaret; my heart is drown'd with grief,
Whose flood begins to flow within mine eyes,
My body round engirt with misery, 200
For what's more miserable than discontent?
Ah! uncle Humphrey, in thy face I see
The map of honour, truth, and loyalty;
And yet, good Humphrey, is the hour to come 204
That e'er I prov'd thee false, or fear'd thy faith.
What low'ring star now envies thy estate,
That these great lords, and Margaret our queen,
Do seek subversion of thy harmless life? 208
Thou never didst them wrong, nor no man wrong;
And as the butcher takes away the calf,
And binds the wretch, and beats it when it strays,
184 Beshrew: curse, fie on!
192 gnarling: snarling (to determine)
203 map: epitome, abstract
