KING HENRY.
Poor queen! how love to me and to her son
Hath made her break out into terms of rage!
Reveng'd may she be on that hateful duke
Whose haughty spirit, winged with desire,
Will cost my crown, and like an empty eagle
Tire on the flesh of me and of my son.
The loss of those three lords torments my heart;
I'll write unto them, and entreat them fair.--
Come, cousin, you shall be the messenger.

EXETER.
And I, I hope, shall reconcile them all.


[Exeunt.]



SCENE II. Sandal Castle

[Enter EDWARD, RICHARD, and MONTAGUE.]

RICHARD.
Brother, though I be youngest, give me leave.

EDWARD.
No; I can better play the orator.