Of all thy kingship standing.
Lord. Yea, my Liege, some swords be left thee yet.
Hen. And ye still own me? Fear ye not this curse,
That blacks the world, the very earth I stand on;
Unkings me all, annuls my fatherhood,
Blasts all mine organs, refts me from my kind.
The very heaven must shut from me its light,
The stars no more look kindly, Night no more
Give me her holy balm, sweet, blessed sleep.
No friend, nor child, nor wife, this drives me out