Y. Mor. My lord, he is your enemy, and shall die.
Kent. Stay, villains!
King. Sweet mother, if I cannot pardon him, Entreat my Lord Protector for his life.
Queen. Son, be content; I dare not speak a word.
King. Nor I, and yet methinks I should command; But, seeing I cannot, I'll entreat for him,— My lord, if you will let my uncle live, I will requite it when I come to age.
Y. Mor. Tis for your highness' good, and for the realm's.—100 How often shall I bid you bear him hence?
Kent. Art thou king? must I die at thy command?
Y. Mor. At our command! once more away with him.
Kent. Let me but stay and speak; I will not go. Either my brother or my son is king, And none of both them thirst for Edmund's blood. And therefore, soldiers, whither will you hale me? [They hale Kent away, and carry him to be beheaded.
King. What safety may I look for at his hands, If that my uncle shall be murdered thus?