Jer. My knee sings thanks unto your highness’ bounty.—
Come hither, boy Horatio; fold thy joints;
Kneel by thy father’s loins, and thank my liege,
By honouring me, thy mother, and thyself,
With this high staff of office.
Hor. O my liege,
I have a heart thrice stronger than my years,
And that shall answer gratefully for me.
Let not my youthful blush impair my valour:
If ever you have foes, or red field-scars,