Shield me, love!
Canst thou not, Robin? Where shall I be hid?
O God! these ravens will seize upon thy dove.
ROB. H. They cannot hurt thee; pray thee, do not fear:
Base curs will couch, the lion being near.
QUEEN. How works my powder?
ROB. H. Very well, fair queen.
KING. Dost thou feel any ease?
ROB. H. I shall, I trust, anon:
Sleep falls upon mine eyes. O, I must sleep,
And they that love me, do not waken me.
MAR. Sleep in my lap, and I will sing to thee.
JOHN. He should not sleep.
ROB. H. I must, for I must die;
While I live, therefore, let me have some rest.
FITZ. Ay, let him rest: the poison urges sleep.
When he awakes, there is no hope of life.
DON. Of life! Now, by the little time I have to live,
He cannot live one hour for your lives.
KING. Villain! what art thou?
DON. Why, I am a knight.
CHES. Thou wert indeed. If it so please your grace,
I will describe my knowledge of this wretch.
KING. Do, Chester.
CHES. This Doncaster, for so the felon hight,
Was by the king, your father, made a knight,
And well in arms he did himself behave.
Many a bitter storm the wind of rage
Blasted this realm within those woful days,
When the unnatural fights continued
Between your kingly father and his sons.
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