_Henry_.--Would it were morning, and the hour were come. For still my heart misgives me, lest our parents Do, in fond weakness, save us by dishonour! _Richard_.--Rather than purchase life at such a price, And have my father sell his faith for me, And sell his country, I would rather thou, My brother in my birth and in my death, Should be my executioner! We know them better! _Henry_.--Now I seem old and weary of this life, So joy I in our death for Scotland's sake; For this death will so wed us to our country, We shall be old in years to all posterity! And it will place a blot on Edward's name, That time may blacken, but can ne'er efface. _Richard_.--My heart, too, beats as light as if tomorrow Had been, by young love, destined for my bridal; Yet oft a tear comes stealing down my cheek, When I do think me of our _mother_, Henry! _Henry_.--Oh speak not of our parents! or my heart Will burst ere morning, and from the tyrant rob His well-earned infamy. _Richard_.--Oh! I must speak of them: They now will wander weeping in their chamber, Or from their window through the darkness gaze, And stretch their hands and sigh towards the camp; Then, when the red east breaks the night away-- Ah! what a sight will meet their eyes, my brother! _Henry_.--My brother! oh my brother! _Enter_ FRIAR. _Guard_.--Who would pass here? _Friar_.--A friend! a friend!--a messenger of mercy! _Guard_.--Nay, wert thou mercy's self, you cannot pass. _Friar_.--Refuse ye, then, your prisoners their confessor? _Guard_.--Approach not, or ye die! _Friar_.--Would ye stretch forth your hand 'gainst Heaven's anointed? _Guard_.--Ay! 'gainst the Pope himself, if he should thwart me. _Friar_.--Mercy ye have not, neither shall ye find it. _[Springs forward and stabs him_--_approaches_ RICHARD _and_ HENRY, _and unbinds their fetters_. _Friar_.--In chains as criminals! Ye are free, but speak not. _Richard_.--Here, holy father, let me kneel to thank thee. _Henry_.--And let me hear but my deliverer's name, That my first prayer may waft it to the skies. _Friar_.--Kneel not, nor thank me here. There's need of neither; But be ye silent, for the ground has ears; Nor let it hear your footsteps. _[He approaches the fire; kindles a torch and fires the camp_. _Henry_.--Behold, my brother, he has fired the camp! Already see the flames ascend around him. _Friar_.--Now! now, my country! here thou art avenged! Fly with me to the beach! pursuit is vain! Thou, Heaven, hast heard me! thou art merciful! _[Exit_. SCENE X.--_Apartment in_ SETON'S _House_.