[♦] Death makes no conquest of this conqueror;
[♦] For now he lives in fame, though not in life.
I’ll tell you what, my cousin Buckingham,—
[90] Buck. What, my gracious lord?
[♦] Prince. An if I live until I be a man,
I’ll win our ancient right in France again,
Or die a soldier, as I lived a king.
[♦] Glou. [Aside] Short summers lightly have a forward spring.
Enter young YORK, HASTINGS, and the CARDINAL.
95 Buck. Now, in good time, here comes the Duke of York.