LADY F. Upon my word, I'll bring none but myself. ROB. You see I am weapon'd, do not, I beseech thee.[477] I'll stab them, come there twenty, ere they breech me. [_Exit_. LADY F. This youth and Richard think me easily won; But Marian rather will embrace The bony carcase of dismaying death, Than prove unchaste to noble Fauconbridge. Richard,[478] King Henry's son, is light, Wanton, and loves not humble modesty, Which makes me (much contrary to my thoughts) Flatter his humour for my brother's safety, But I protest I'll dwell among the dead, Ere I pollute my sacred nuptial bed. [_Exit_. SCENE THE ELEVENTH. _Enter_ GLOSTER _in his gown, calling_. GLO. Porter, what, porter, where's this drowsy ass? _Enter_ PORTER. POR. Who calls? my Lord of Gloucester all alone? GLO. Alone, and have your wisdom's company! Pray, where's the stammering chatterer, your son? He's ever running; but he makes small haste. I'll bring his lither legs in better frame, And if he serve me thus another time-- [_Knock within_. Hark, sir, your clients knock; and't be your pye, Let him[479] vouchsafe to chatter us some news, Tell him we dance attendance in our chamber. [_Exit_ PORTER. This John and Henry are so full of hate, That they will have my head by some device, Gloster hath plotted means for an escape, And if it fadge,[480] why so; if not, then well. The way to heaven is death, this life's a hell. SCENE THE TWELFTH. _Enter_ PORTER _and_ SKINK. POR. Why should the watchman come along with thee? SKINK. There's such, a que-question for yon s-same r-rogue; Skink, p-plague keep [me] far enough from him, that a-an-honest f-fellow ca-can-not w-w-walk the streets. POR. Well, sir, dispatch your business with the earl; He's angry at your stay, I tell ye that. [_Exit_. SKINK. 'Sblood, what a frown this Gloster casts at me; I hope he means to lend me no more cuffs, Such as he paid me at the Parliament. [_Aside_. GLO. What mutter you? what tidings from my sister? SKINK. Co-commendations, and s-she hath s-sent ye this r-ring. GLO. Hold, there's two angels; shut the chamber-door, You must about some business for me straight; Come nearer, man. SKINK. I fear I am too near. [_Aside_. GLO. Hast thou no tidings for my liberty? SKINK. No, b-but ye sh-shall he-hear f-from her p-p-presently. GLO. And p-presently, sir, off with your coat. Nay, quick, uncase, I am bold to borrow it, I'll leave my gown; change is no robbery. Stutterer, it's so, ne'er flinch, ye cannot pass: Cry, and by heaven I'll cut thy coward's throat, Quickly cashier yourself: you see me stay. SKINK. N-n-nay, b-b-but wh-wh-what m-mean ye?