Peace, Master Marquess, you are malapert

Queen Margaret
Peace, Master Marquess, you are malapert.
Your fire-new stamp of honor is scarce current.
O, that your young nobility could judge
What ’twere to lose it and be miserable!
They that stand high have many blasts to shake them,
And if they fall, they dash themselves to pieces.

They that stand high have many blasts to shake them,
And if they fall, they dash themselves to pieces.

Richard
Good counsel, marry.—Learn it, learn it, marquess.
Dorset
It touches you, my lord, as much as me.
Richard
Ay, and much more; but I was born so high.
Our aerie buildeth in the cedar’s top,
And dallies with the wind and scorns the sun.
Queen Margaret
And turns the sun to shade. Alas, alas,
Witness my son, now in the shade of death,
Whose bright out-shining beams thy cloudy wrath
Hath in eternal darkness folded up.
Your aerie buildeth in our aerie’s nest.
O God, that seest it, do not suffer it!
As it is won with blood, lost be it so.
Buckingham
Peace, peace, for shame, if not for charity.
Queen Margaret
Urge neither charity nor shame to me.
   Addressing the others.
Uncharitably with me have you dealt,
And shamefully my hopes by you are butchered.
My charity is outrage, life my shame,
And in that shame still live my sorrows’ rage.