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he is risen from his bed. what fate preserves him?)

my lord, how fare you?

Woodstock

thou canst not kill me villain!

god's holy angel guards a just man's life

and with his radiant beams as bright as fire

will guard and keep his righteous innocence.

I am a prince. thou darest not murder me.

Lapoole

your grace mistakes, my lord.

Woodstock

what art thou, speak!

Lapoole

Lapoole, my lord, this city's governor.

Woodstock

Lapoole, thou art King Richard's flatterer.

oh, you just gods! record their treachery,

judge their foul wrongs, that under show of friendship

betrayed my simple, kind, intendiments!

my heart misgave it was no time for revels

when you, like masquers, came, disguised, to plashey

joined with that wanton King to trap my life,

for that, I know is the end his malice aims at.

this castle, and my secret sending hither

imports no less. therefore I charge ye tell me:

even by the virtue of nobility,

and partly, too, on that allegiance

thou owest the offspring of King Edward's house,

if aught thou knowest to prejudice my life,

thou presently reveal, and make it known.

Lapoole

nay, good my lord, forbear that fond suspicion.

Woodstock

I tell thee, poole: there is no less intended.

why am I sent thus from my native country,

but here at calais to be murdered?

and that Lapoole, confounds my patience.

this town of calais where I spent my blood

to make it captive to the english King,

before whose walls great Edward lay encamped

with his seven sons almost for fourteen months;

where the black prince, my brother, and myself

the peers of England, and our royal father,

fearless of wounds, never left till it was won,

and was it to make a prison for his son?

oh, righteous heavens, why do you suffer it?

Lapoole

disquiet not your thoughts, my gracious lord.

there is no hurt intended, credit me,

although awhile your freedom be abridged.

I know the King: if you would but submit

and write your letters to his majesty,

your reconcilement might be easily wrought.

Woodstock

for what should I submit, or ask his mercy?

had I offended, with all low submission

I would lay my neck under the block before him

and willingly endure the stroke of death.

but if not so, why should my fond entreaties

make my true loyalty appear like treason?

no, no, Lapoole, let guilty men beg pardons.

my mind is clear; and I must tell ye, sir,

princes have hearts like pointed diamonds

that will in sunder burst afore they bend,

and such lives here! though death King Richard send,

yet fetch me pen and ink, I will write to him

not to entreat, but to admonish him

that he forsake his foolish ways in time

and learn to govern like a virtuous prince:

call home his wise and reverend counsellors,

thrust from his court those cursed flatterers

that hourly work the realm's confusion.

this counsel if he follow may in time

pull down those mischiefs that so fast do climb.

Lapoole

here is pen and paper, my lord, will it please

ye write?

Woodstock

anon I will: shut to the doors and leave me.

goodnight, Lapoole, and pardon me I prithee

that my sad fear made question of thy faith.

my state is fearful, and my mind was troubled

even at thy entrance, with most fearful visions;

which made my passions more extreme and hasty.

out of my better judgment I repent it,

and will reward thy love. once more, good-night.

Lapoole

good rest unto your grace, (I mean in death.

this dismal night, thou breathest thy latest breath.

he sits to write, I will call the murderers in

to steal behind and closely strangle him.) Exit

Woodstock

so help me heaven, I know not what to write,

what style to use, nor how I should begin:

my method is too plain, to greet a King.

I will nothing say to excuse or clear myself,

for I have nothing done that needs excuse;

but tell him plain, though here I spend my blood.

Enter both the Murderers

I wish his safety and all England's good.

1st Murderer

creep close to his back, ye rogue, be ready with

the towel, when I have