HEN. Skink, thou hast life, our pardon and our love.
SKINK [to JOHN.] And your forgiveness for my robbery?
JOHN. Tut, never trouble me with such a toy;
Thou hind'rest me from hearing of my joy.
HEN. Bring forth a block, wine, water, and towel;
Knives, and a surgeon to bind up the veins
Of Gloster's arm, when his right hand is off—
His hand that struck Skink at the Parl'ament.
SKINK. I shall bear his blows to my grave, my lord.
KING. Son Henry, see thy father's palsy hands,
Join'd like two suppliants, pressing to thy throne.
Look, how the furrows of his aged cheek,
Fill'd with the rivulets of wet-ey'd moan,
Begs mercy for Earl Gloster? weigh his guilt.
Why for a slave should royal blood be spilt?
SKINK. You wrong mine honour: Skink must[547] be reveng'd.
HEN. Father, I do commend your humble course;
But quite dislike the project of your suit.
Good words in an ill cause makes the fact worse:
Of blood or baseness justice will dispute.
The greater man, the greater his transgression:
Where strength wrongs weakness, it is mere oppression.
LADY F. O, but, King Henry, hear a sister speak.
Gloster was wrong'd, his lands were given away,
They are not justly said just laws to break,
That keep their own right with what power they may.
Think, then, thy royal self began the wrong,
In giving Skink what did to him[548] belong.
QUEEN. Hear me, son Henry, while thou art a king,
Give, take, prison: thy subjects are thy slaves.
Life, need, thrones[549], proud hearts in dungeons fling,
Grace men to day, to-morrow give them graves.
A king must be, like Fortune, ever turning,
The world his football, all her glory spurning.