West.
How now, my Lord Chief Justice, whither away?

Ch. Just.
How doth the King?

West.
Exceeding well: his cares are now all ended.

Ch. Just.
I hope not dead.

West.
He's walk'd the way of nature,
And to our purposes he lives no more.

Ch. Just.
I would his Majesty had call'd me with him;
The service that I truly did his life,
Hath left me open to all injuries.

West.
Indeed I think the young King loves you not.

Ch. Just.
I know he doth not, and do arm myself,
To welcome the condition of the time,
Which cannot look more hideous on me,
Than I have drawn it in my fantasy.

West.
Here come the heavy issue of dead Harry:
O, that the living Harry had the temper,
Of him, the worst of these three gentlemen!
How many nobles then should hold their places,
That must strike sail to spirits of vile sort! Enter Prince John of Lancaster, Gloucester, and Clarence.

Ch. Just.
Alas, I fear all will be overturn'd.

Lan.
Good-morrow, cousin Westmorland.

Glou.
Good morrow, cousin.
O, good my Lord, you've lost a friend, indeed.
And I dare swear you borrow not that face
Of seeming sorrow: it is sure your own.

Lan.
Tho' no man be assur'd what grace to find,
You stand in coldest expectation.
I am the sorrier: would 'twere otherwise!

Cla.
Well, you must now speak Sir John Falstaff fair,
Which swims against your stream of quality.

Ch. Just.
Sweet Princes, what I did, I did in honour,
Led by th' impartial conduct of my soul;
And never shall you see that I will beg
A ragged and forestall'd remission.
If truth and upright innocency fail me,
I'll to the King my master that is dead,
And tell him who hath sent me after him.

West.
Here comes the King.

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