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.
_Richard_.--Oh! I must speak of them:
They now will wander weeping in their chamber,
Or from their window through the darkness gaze,
And stretch their hands and sigh towards the camp;
Then, when the red east breaks the night away--
Ah! what a sight will meet their eyes, my brother!
_Henry_.--My brother! oh my brother!
_Enter_ FRIAR.
_Guard_.--Who would pass here?
_Friar_.--A friend! a friend!--a messenger of mercy!
_Guard_.--Nay, wert thou mercy's self, you cannot pass.
_Friar_.--Refuse ye, then, your prisoners their confessor?
_Guard_.--Approach not, or ye die!
_Friar_.--Would ye stretch forth your hand 'gainst Heaven's
anointed?
_Guard_.--Ay! 'gainst the Pope himself, if he should thwart
me.
_Friar_.--Mercy ye have not, neither shall ye find it.
_[Springs forward and stabs him_--_approaches_ RICHARD
_and_ HENRY, _and unbinds their fetters_.
_Friar_.--In chains as criminals! Ye are free, but speak
not.
_Richard_.--Here, holy father, let me kneel to thank thee.
_Henry_.--And let me hear but my deliverer's name,
That my first prayer may waft it to the skies.
_Friar_.--Kneel not, nor thank me here. There's need of neither;
But be ye silent, for the ground has ears;
Nor let it hear your footsteps.
_[He approaches the fire; kindles a torch and fires the
camp_.
_Henry_.--Behold, my brother, he has fired the camp!
Already see the flames ascend around him.
_Friar_.--Now! now, my country! here thou art avenged!
Fly with me to the beach! pursuit is vain!
Thou, Heaven, hast heard me! thou art merciful! _[Exit_.