Bates. I do not desire he should answer for me; and yet I determine to fight lustily for him.
K. Hen. I myself heard the king say he would not be ransomed.
Will. Ay, he said so, to make us fight cheerfully: but, when our throats are cut, he may be ransomed, and we ne’er the wiser.
K. Hen. If I live to see it, I will never trust his word after.
Will. That’s a perilous shot out of an elder gun, that a poor and private displeasure can do against a monarch! you may as well go about to turn the sun to ice with fanning in his face with a peacock’s feather. You’ll never trust his word after! come, ’tis a foolish saying.
K. Hen. Your reproof is something too round:[11] I should be angry with you, if the time were convenient.
Will. Let it be a quarrel between us, if you live.
K. Hen. I embrace it.
Will. How shall I know thee again?
K. Hen. Give me any gage of thine, and I will wear it in my bonnet: then, if ever thou darest acknowledge it, I will make it my quarrel.