Far be it from the honor of my age,
That I should owe bright gold and render lead;
Age is a cynic, not a flatterer.
I say again, that if I knew your grief,
And that by me it may be lessened,
My proper harm should buy your highness good.

KING EDWARD.
These are the vulgar tenders of false men,
That never pay the duty of their words.
Thou wilt not stick to swear what thou hast said;
But, when thou knowest my grief's condition,
This rash disgorged vomit of thy word
Thou wilt eat up again, and leave me helpless.

WARWICK.
By heaven, I will not, though your majesty
Did bid me run upon your sword and die.

KING EDWARD.
Say that my grief is no way medicinable
But by the loss and bruising of thine honour.

WARWICK.
If nothing but that loss may vantage you,
I would accompt that loss my vantage too.

KING EDWARD.
Thinkst that thou canst unswear thy oath again?