I shall do’t, my lord.
Exit, R.H.
K. Hen. O God of battles! steel my soldier’s hearts;
Possess them not with fear; take from them now
The sense of reckoning, lest the opposed numbers
Pluck their hearts from them!—Not to-day, O Lord,
O, not to-day, think not upon the fault
My father made in compassing the crown!
I Richard’s body have interred new;([C])
And on it have bestow’d more contrite tears,