To be our regent in these parts of France:
And, good my Lord of Somerset, unite 164
Your troops of horsemen with his bands of foot;
And like true subjects, sons of your progenitors,
Go cheerfully together and digest
Your angry choler on your enemies. 168
Ourself, my Lord Protector, and the rest,
After some respite will return to Calais;
From thence to England; where I hope ere long
To be presented by your victories, 172
With Charles, Alençon, and that traitorous rout.
War. My Lord of York, I promise you, the king
Prettily, methought, did play the orator.
York. And so he did; but yet I like it not,
In that he wears the badge of Somerset. 177
War. Tush! that was but his fancy, blame him not;
I dare presume, sweet prince, he thought no harm.
York. An if I wist he did,—But let it rest;
Other affairs must now be managed. 181
Exe. Well didst thou, Richard, to suppress thy voice;
For had the passions of thy heart burst out,
I fear we should have seen decipher'd there 184
More rancorous spite, more furious raging broils,
Than yet can be imagin'd or suppos'd.
But howsoe'er, no simple man that sees
This jarring discord of nobility, 188
This shouldering of each other in the court,
This factious bandying of their favourites,
167 digest: vent, disperse
181 S. d. Flourish; cf. n.
190 bandying: contending
