Than sovereign.
Pem. A son! Where is the son
Would weep for Pembroke?
Rich. Here, my dearest father!
Here are the tears would water thy affliction
Till it be washed from thy endangered body.
Here is the heart would give its younger blood
To make thine leap with health. Without you, sir,
I am no more than is the gaudy bloom
Of some stout tree the axe has brought to ground.