ACT 3, SCENE 1.

_Boling_. “Myself, a prince by fortune of my birth; Near to the king in blood; and near in love, Till you did make him misinterpret me, Have stoop’d my neck under your injuries, And sigh’d my English breath in foreign clouds, Eating the bitter bread of banishment: Whilst you have fed upon my signories, Dis_park’d_ my parks, and fell’d my forest woods; From my own windows torn my household coat, Raz’d out my _impress_, {32} leaving me no sign, Save men’s opinions and my living blood, To shew the world I am a gentleman. This, and much more, much more than twice all this, Condemns you to the death. See them deliver’d over To execution and the hand of death.”