Fra. And our flesh be one, so be our will.
Your Queen's command obey as ours, General.
In England, France be she, till battle's won,
or Death's quick scythe our union sunders.
Kent. And France?
Cor. My will be his, an so he said well clear.
Yet can a will be turned such on hisself?
Or must, in turning, twine and, least o' th' pair
Be turned upon in turn, the greater's catch.
Kent. Nay, all the kings in all the Orient could not
Reduce your state, nor make you less a Queen.
Cor. I fear not the Orient's far-flung dangers:
The end I fear lies closer to my bed.