ACT III SCENE 1. _Same as in act second. The king, Pembroke, Albemarle, Winchester, and other lords entering._ _Hen._ The barons are assembling. On to London, And call the council. I will join you there. The revenues long promised shall be paid. At last I am a king! Will post, my lords? Night shuffles toward the morn. _Pem._ You'll not forget Your barons' suit, my liege. _Hen._ Bring the petition. I'll look at it, and then--will what I will. [_Exit_] _Alb._ What new-gown cock is this? _Pem._ Will what I will! And post you, sirs! _Win._ The child that hung at knees Now stands on the great shoulders of De Burgh, And ports himself a giant o'er our heads. _Pem._ Ha, so! This wedge of love 'twixt you and Henry Quite thrusts you out. _Win._ True, sir, but I've in mind A plot will reach as high as Kent's new head, Which, with your sworn and loyal aid, I'll push To fullest stature. _Pem._ You have my oath, my lord. _Win._ And bond more sure--your spurring need to prick Kent's swelling strength. But you, lord Albemarle-- The mighty Kent is brother to your wife, Which now may count somewhat to lift your fortunes. _Alb._ And when didst see my fortunes lie so low As need the hoisting hand of friend or kin? Nay, our ambitions swear us enemies! I stand as free, my lord, as any here. _Win._ Then hear my plan. You know I carry all With the archbishop. _Pem._ True. If Winchester would Trust Canterbury to find way. _Win._ Through him We'll call this council in the name of Rome, To kill the canker in the bud of peace So lately ventured in the track of war, And sound abroad that on this holy day All weapons, armor, and gross sign of blood Shall be laid by. I will persuade the king His dignity is touched to be so quick To fill his purse before he says his prayers, And that 'tis wise to throw this goodly bait To hook the common love. Now to this meeting Let every prelate bear most righteous arms, And every baron look well to his sword; Then when the unsuspecting king appears, Close companied no doubt by his new earl, That mushroom minion we will dare accuse And crop his power as we prize our safety. _Pem._ But will not Kent oppose this swordless worship? _Win._ Nay, he's afflicted with true piety, And in the addling flush of high success Is mellow with the good love of the world. All men are honest now! Trust me, he'll bait At what his judgment yesterday had scorned. _Alb._ But what have we t' advance with show of right Against him?