LEI.  Do princes fight for gold?  O leaden thought! 
Your father knew that honour was the aim
Kings level at.  By sweet St John, I swear,
You urge me so, that I cannot forbear. 
What do you tell of money lent the king,
When first he went into this holy war,
As if he had extorted from the poor,
When you, the queen, and all that hear me speak,
Know with what zeal the people gave their goods. 
Old wives took silver buckles from their belts;
Young maids the gilt pins that tuck’d up their trains;
Children their pretty whistles from their necks,
And every man what he did most esteem,
Crying to soldiers, “Wear these gifts of ours.” 
This proves that Richard had no need to wrong,
Or force the people, that with willing hearts
Gave more than was desir’d.  And where you say,
You [do] guess Richard’s victories but lies,
I swear he wan rich Cyprus with his sword;
And thence, more glorious than the guide of Greece,
That brought so huge a fleet to Tenedos,
He sail’d along the Mediterran sea,
Where on a sunbright morning he did meet
The warlike Soldan’s[218] well-prepared fleet. 
O, still, methinks, I see King Richard stand
In his gilt armour stain’d with Pagan’s blood,
Upon a galley’s prow, like war’s fierce god,
And on his crest a crucifix of gold! 
O, that day’s honour can be never told! 
Six times six several brigantines he boarded,
And in the greedy waves flung wounded Turks;
And three times thrice the winged galley’s banks
(Wherein the Soldan’s son was admiral)
In his own person royal Richard smooth’d,
And left no heathen hand to be upheav’d
Against the Christian soldiers.

JOHN.  Leicester, so? 
Did he all this?

LEI.  Ay, by God he did,
And more than this:  nay, jest [not] at it, John;
I swear he did, by Leicester’s faith he did,
And made the green sea red with Pagan blood,
Leading to Joppa glorious victory,
And following fear, that fled unto the foe.

JOHN.  All this he did! perchance all this was so!

LEI.  Holy God, help me! soldiers, come away! 
This carpet-knight[219] sits carping at our scars,
And jests at those most glorious, well-fought wars.

JOHN.  Leicester, you are too hot:  stay; go not yet. 
Methinks, if Richard won those victories,
The wealthy kingdoms he hath conquered
May, better than poor England, pay his ransom. 
He left this realm, as a young orphan-maid,
To Ely, the step-father of this state,
That stripp’d the virgin to her very skin;
And, Leicester, had not John more careful been
Than Richard,
At this hour England had not England been. 
Therefore, good warlike lord, take this in brief;
We wish King Richard well, but can send no relief.

LEI.  O, let not my heart break with inward grief!

JOHN.  Yes, let it, Leicester:  it is not amiss,
That twenty such hearts break as your heart is.