And my large kingdom for a little grave—
A little, little grave, an obscure grave.’
How differently is all this expressed in King Henry’s soliloquy, during the battle with Edward’s party:—
‘This battle fares like to the morning’s war,
When dying clouds contend with growing light,
What time the shepherd blowing of his nails,
Can neither call it perfect day or night.
Here on this mole-hill will I sit me down;
To whom God will, there be the victory!
For Margaret my Queen and Clifford too