LEI.  I will go back, i’ faith, once more and see,
Whether this mock king and the Mother Queen—­
And who—­Here’s neither queen nor lord! 
What, king of crickets, is there none but you? 
Come off, [this crown:  this sceptre, off!][225]
This crown, this sceptre are King Richard’s right: 
Bear thou them, Richmond, thou art his true knight. 
You would not send his ransom, gentle John;
He’s come to fetch it now.  Come, wily fox,
Now you are stripp’d out of the lion’s case,
What, dare you look the lion in the face? 
The English lion, that in Austria
With his strong hand pull’d out a lion’s heart. 
Good Richmond, tell it me; for God’s sake, do: 
O, it does me good to hear his glories told.

RICH.  Leicester, I saw King Richard with his fist
Strike dead the son of Austrian Leopold,
And then I saw him, by the duke’s command,
Compass’d and taken by a troop of men,
Who led King Richard to a lion’s den. 
Opening the door, and in a paved court,
The cowards left King Richard weaponless: 
Anon comes forth the fire-eyed dreadful beast,
And with a heart-amazing voice he roar’d,
Opening (like hell) his iron-toothed jaws,
And stretching out his fierce death-threatening paws. 
I tell thee, Leicester, and I smile thereat
(Though then, God knows, I had no power to smile),
I stood by treacherous Austria all the while,
Who in a gallery with iron grates
Stay’d to behold King Richard made a prey.

LEI.  What was’t thou smiledst at in Austria?

RICH.  Leicester, he shook—­so help me God, he shook—­
With very terror at the lion’s look.

LEI.  Ah, coward! but go on, what Richard did.

RICH.  Richard about his right hand wound a scarf
(God quite her for it) given him by a maid: 
With endless good may that good deed be paid! 
And thrust that arm down the devouring throat
Of the fierce lion, and withdrawing it,
Drew out the strong heart of the monstrous beast,
And left the senseless body on the ground.

LEI.  O royal Richard:  Richmond, look on John: 
Does he not quake in hearing this discourse? 
Come, we will leave him, Richmond:  let us go. 
John, make suit
For grace, that is your [only] means, you know.

[Exeunt.

JOHN.  A mischief on that Leicester! is he gone? 
’Twere best go too, lest in some mad fit
He turn again, and lead me prisoner. 
Southward I dare not fly:  fain, fain I would
To Scotland bend my course; but all the woods
Are full of outlaws, that in Kendal green
Follow the outlaw’d Earl of Huntington. 
Well, I will clothe myself in such a suit,
And by that means as well ’scape all pursuit,
As pass the danger-threatening Huntington;
For, having many outlaws, they’ll think me
By my attire one of their mates to be.

[Exit.

SCENE 2.