Patience. Heaven comfort her!
Messenger. An't like your grace,--
Griffith. You are to blame,
Knowing she will not lose her wonted greatness,
To use so rude behavior; go to, kneel.
Messenger. I humbly do entreat your highness' pardon;
My haste made me unmannerly. There is staying
A gentleman, sent from the king, to see you.
© Copyright 2017-2022 Shakespeare Network - Maximianno Cobra - All rights reserved.