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.