Pem. What? Land your enemy? O, fools and cowards!
... I've given my life for England. Now you'll cast
My heart-dear bargain into Louis' hand
As 'twere a snood slipped from an easy maid.
Fool man! to puff his days out jousting Fate,
Who waits but his bare death to start her mock
Of horrid pleasantries. Then does she make
Dice of the miser's bones, carousal cups
Of the ascetic's skull, a hangman's scoff
Of clerics' prayer-fed sons; and proudest sires,