He were created knight for his good service. Iden, kneel down. Rise up a knight. We give thee for reward a thousand marks, And will that thou henceforth attend on us. May Iden live to merit such a bounty. And never live but true unto his liege! See, Buckingham, Somerset comes with the queen: Go, bid her hide him quickly from the duke. For thousand Yorks he shall not hide his head, But boldly stand and front him to his face. How now! is Somerset at liberty? Then, York, unloose thy long-imprison'd thoughts, And let thy tongue be equal with thy heart. Shall I endure the sight of Somerset? False king! why hast thou broken faith with me, Knowing how hardly I can brook abuse? King did I call thee? no, thou art not king, Not fit to govern and rule multitudes, Which darest not, no, nor canst not rule a traitor. That head of thine doth not become a crown; Thy hand is made to grasp a palmer's staff, And not to grace an awful princely sceptre. That gold must round engirt these brows of mine, Whose smile and frown, like to Achilles' spear, Is able with the change to kill and cure. Here is a hand to hold a sceptre up And with the same to act controlling laws. Give place: by heaven, thou shalt rule no more O'er him whom heaven created for thy ruler. O monstrous traitor! I arrest thee, York, Of capital treason 'gainst the king and crown; Obey, audacious traitor; kneel for grace. Wouldst have me kneel? first let me ask of these, If they can brook I bow a knee to man. Sirrah, call in my sons to be my bail; I know, ere they will have me go to ward, They'll pawn their swords for my enfranchisement. Call hither Clifford! bid him come amain, To say if that the bastard boys of York Shall be the surety for their traitor father. O blood-besotted Neapolitan, Outcast of Naples, England's bloody scourge! The sons of York, thy betters in their birth, Shall be their father's bail; and bane to those That for my surety will refuse the boys! See where they come: I'll warrant they'll make it good. And here comes Clifford to deny their bail. Health and all happiness to my lord the king! I thank thee, Clifford: say, what news with thee? Nay, do not fright us with an angry look; We are thy sovereign, Clifford, kneel again; For thy mistaking so, we pardon thee. This is my king, York, I do