1 Here's France and Burgundy, my noble lord.
2 You lords and noble friends, know our intent.
3 Yet am I noble as the adversary I come to cope.
4 Methought thy very gait did prophesy A royal nobleness.
5 Right noble Burgundy, When she was dear to us, we did hold her so; But now her price is fall'n.
6 Draw thy sword, That if my speech offend a noble heart, Thy arm may do thee justice: here is mine.
7 Thus out of season, threading dark-ey'd night: Occasions, noble Gloucester, of some poise, Wherein we must have use of your advice.
8 I know your lady does not love her husband; I am sure of that; and at her late being here She gave strange oeillades and most speaking looks To noble Edmund.
9 One step I have advanc'd thee; if thou dost As this instructs thee, thou dost make thy way To noble fortunes: know thou this, that men Are as the time is; to be tender-minded Does not become a sword.
10 The noble Duke my master, My worthy arch and patron, comes tonight: By his authority I will proclaim it, That he which finds him shall deserve our thanks, Bringing the murderous coward to the stake; He that conceals him, death.
11 I promise you, the effects he writes of succeed unhappily: as of unnaturalness between the child and the parent; death, dearth, dissolutions of ancient amities; divisions in state, menaces and maledictions against King and nobles; needless diffidences, banishment of friends, dissipation of cohorts, nuptial breaches, and I know not what.