PRIOR. Alas! what can I do?
WAR. Then I defy the world! yet I desire
Your grace would read this supplication.
[JOHN reads.
JOHN. I thought as much: but, Warman, dost thou think
There is one moving line to mercy here?
I tell thee, no; therefore away, away!
A shameful death follows thy longer stay.
WAR. O poor, poor man!
Of miserable miserablest wretch I am. [Exit.
JOHN. Confusion be thy guide! a baser slave
Earth cannot bear: plagues follow him, I crave.
Can any tell me if my Lord of York
Be able to sit up?
QUEEN. The Archbishop's grace
Was reasonable well even now, good son.
SAL. And he desir'd me that I should desire
Your majesty to send unto his grace,
If any matter did import his presence.
JOHN. We will ourselves step in and visit him.
Mother and my good lords, will you attend us?
PRIOR. I gladly will attend your majesty.