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Unreasonable creatures feed their young

Becomes it thee to be thus bold in terms, And though man's face be fearful to their eyes, Before thy sovereign, and thy lawful king? Yet, in protection of their tender ones,

Edw. I am his king, and he should bow his knee; Who hath not seen them (even with those wings I was adopted heir by his consent : Which sometime they have used with fearful fight,) Since when, his oath is broke; for, as I hear, Make war with him that climb'd unto their nest, You that are king, though he do wear the Offering their own lives in their youngs' defence ?

crown,
For shame, my liege, make them your precedent ! Have caus'd him, by new act of parliament,
Were it not pity, that this goodly boy

To blot out me, and put his own son in.
Should lose his birthright by his father's fault ; Clif. And reason too;
And long hereafter say unto his child, -

Who should succeed the father but the son ?
What my great-grandfather and grandsire got,

Rich. Are you there, butcher ? -0, I cannot My careless father fondly gave away?

speak! Ah, what a shame were this! Look on the boy ; Clif. Ay, crook-back; here I stand, to answer And let his manly face, which promiseth

thee, Successful fortune, steel thy melting heart, Or any he the proudest of thy sort. To hold thine own, and leave thine own with him. Rich. 'Twas you that kill'd young Rutland, was K. Hen. Full well hath Clifford play'd the orator,

it not ? Inferring arguments of mighty force.

Clif. Ay, and old York, and yet not satisfy'd. But, Clifford, tell me, didst thou never hear,

Rich. For God's sake, lords, give signal to the That things ill got had ever bad success ?

fight. And happy always was it for that son,

War. What say'st thou, Henry, wilt thou yield Whose father for his hoarding went to hell ?

the crown? I'll leave my son my virtuous deeds behind;

Q. Mar. Why, how now, long-tongu'd WarAnd 'would, my father had left me no more!

wick? dare you speak ? For all the rest is held at such a rate,

When you and I met at Saint Alban's last, As brings a thousand-fold more care to keep, Your legs did better service than your hands. Than in possession any jot of pleasure.

War. Then 'twas my turn to fly, and now 'tis Ah, cousin York! 'would thy best friends did know,

thine. How it doth grieve me that thy head is here ! Clif. You said so much before, and yet you fled Q. Mar. My lord, cheer up your spirits ; our War. 'Twas not your valour, Clifford, drove me foes are nigh,

thence. And this soft courage makes your followers faint. North. No, nor your manhood, that durst make You promis'd knighthood to our forward son ;

you stay. Unsheath your sword, and dub him presently. – Rich. Northumberland, I hold thee reverently; Edward, kneel down.

Break off the parle ; for scarce I can refrain
K. Hen. Edward Plantagenet, arise a knight ; The execution of my big-swoln heart
And learn this lesson, Draw thy sword in right. Upon that Clifford, that cruel child-killer.

Prince. My gracious father, by your kingly leave, Clif. I slew thy father : Call'st thou him a child? I'll draw it as apparent to the crown,

Rich. Ay, like a dastard, and a treacherous And in that quarrel use it to the death.

coward, Clif. Why, that is spoken like a toward prince. As thou didst kill our tender brother Rutland;

But, ere sun-set, I'll make thee curse the deed. Enter a Messenger,

K. Hen. Have done with words, my lords, and Mess. Royal commanders, be in readiness :

hear me speak. For, with a band of thirty thousand men,

Q. Mar. Defy them then, or else bold close thy Comes Warwick, backing of the duke of York;

lips. And, in the towns, as they do march along,

K. Hen. I pr’ythee, give no limits to my tongue ; Proclaims him king, and many fly to him : I am a king, and privileg'd to speak. Darraign you battle, for they are at hand.

Clif. My liege, the wound, that bred this meeting Clif. I would, your highness would depart the

here, field;

Cannot be cur'd by words; therefore be still. The queen hath best success when you are absent. Rich. Then, executioner, unsheath thy sword: Q. Mar. Ay, good my lord, and leave us to our By him that made us all, I am resolvd, fortune.

That Clifford's manhood lies upon his tongue. K. Hen. Why, that's my fortune too; therefore Edw. Say, Henry, shall I have my right or no?

A thousand men have broke their fasts to-day, North. Be it with resolution then to fight. That ne'er shall dine, unless thon yield the crown.

Prince. My royal father, cheer these noble lords, War. If thou deny, their blood upon thy head; And hearten those that fight in your

defence: For York in justice puts his armour on. Unsheath your sword, good father; cry, Saint George !

Prince. If that be right, which Warwick says is March. Enter EdwaRD, GEORGE, Richard, WAR-There is no wrong, but every thing is right.

right, WICK, NorroLK, MONTAGUE, and Soldiers.

Rich. Whoever got thee, there thy mother stands; Edw. Now, perjur'd Henry! wilt thou kneel For, well I wot, thou hast thy mother's tongue. for grace,

Q. Mar. But thou art neither like thy sire, nor And set thy diadem upon my head ;

dam; Or bide the mortal fortune of the field ?

But like a foul misshapen stigmatick, Q. Mar. Go, rate thy minions, proud insulting Mark'd by the destinies to be avoided, boy!

As venom toads, or lizards' dreadful stings,

I'll stay.

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thine;

Rich. Iron of Naples, hid with English gilt, Whose father bears the title of a king,

Enter RICHARD. (As if a channel should be call'd the sea,)

Rich. Ah, Warwick, why hast thou withdrawn Sham'st thou not, knowing whence thou art ex

thyself? traught,

Thy brother's blood the thirsty earth hath drunk, To let thy tongue detect thy base-born heart? Broach'd with the steely point of Clifford's lance : Edw. A wisp of straw were worth a thousand And, in the very pangs of death, he cry'd, crowns,

Like to a dismal clangour heard from far,To make this shameless callet know herself.

Warwick, revenge! brother, revenge my death ! Kelen of Greece was fairer far than thou,

So underneath the belly of their steeds, Although thy husband may be Menelaus;

That stain'd their fetlocks in his smoking blood, And ne'er was Agamemnon's brother wrong'd The noble gentleman gave up the ghost. By that false woman, as this king by thee.

War. Then let the earth be drunken with our His father revell'd in the heart of France,

blood : And cam'd the king, and made the Dauphin stoop; I'll kill my horse, because I will not fly. And had he match'd according to his state,

Why stand we like soft-hearted women here,' He might have kept that glory to this day :

Wailing our losses, whiles the foe doth rage; But when lie took a beggar to his bed,

And look upon, as if the tragedy
And grac'd thy poor sire with his bridal day; Were play'd in jest by counterfeiting actors?
Even then that sunshine brew'd a shower for him, Here on my knee I vow to God above,
That wash'd his father's fortunes forth of France, I'll never pause again, never stand still,
And beap'd sedition on his crown at home.

Till either death hath clos'd these eyes of mine,
For what bath broach'd this tumult, but thy pride ? Or fortune given me measure of revenge.
Hadst thou been meek, our title still had slept : Edw. 0 Warwick, I do bend my knee with
And we, in pity of the gentle king,
Had slipp'd our claim until another age.

And, in this vow, do chain my soul to thine. Gen. But, when we saw our sunshine made thy And, ere my knee rise from the earth's cold face, spring,

I throw my hands, mine eyes, my heart to thee, And that thy summer bred us no increase,

Thou setter up and plucker down of kings !
We set the axe to thy usurping root :

Beseeching thee, - if with thy will it stands,
And though the edge hath something hit ourselves, That to my foes this body must be prey,
Yet, know thou, since we have begun to strike, Yet that thy brazen gates of heaven may ope,
We'll never leare, till we have hewn thee down, And give sweet passage to my sinful soul!
Or bath'd thy growing with our heated bloods. Now, lords, take leave until we meet again,
Edre. And, in this resolution, I defy thee ;

Where-e'er it be, in heaven, or on earth.
Not willing any longer conference,

Rich. Brother, give me thy hand ; -and, gentle Since thou deny'st the gentle king to speak.

Warwick,
Sound trumpets ! - let our bloody colours wave !- Let me embrace thee in my weary arms :
And either victory, or else a grave.

I, that did never weep, now melt with woe, & Mar. Stay, Edward.

That winter should cut off our spring-time so. Edw. No, wrangling woman; we'll no longer War. Away, away! Once more, sweet lord. stay;

farewell. These words will cost ten thousand lives to-day. Geo. Let us all together to our troops,

[Exeunt. And give them leave to fly that will not stay;

And call them pillars, that will stand to us ; SCENE III. - A Field of Batlle between Towton And, if we thrive, promise them such rewards and Saxton in Yorkshire.

As victors wear at the Olympian games :

This may plant courage in their quailing breasts ; Alanıms : Ercursions. Enter WARWICK.

For yet is hope of life, and victory. Far. Forspent with toil, as runners with a race,

Fore-slow no longer, make we hence amain. I lay me down a little while to breathe :

(Exeunt. pa strokes receiv'd, and many blows repaid, Hare robb'd my strong-knit sinews of their SCENE IV.—The same. Another Part of the Field. strength,

Ercursions. Enter RICHARD and CliFFORD. And, spite of spite, needs must I rest awhile.

Rich. Now, Clifford, I have singled thee alone : Enter Edward, running.

Suppose this arm is for the duke of York, Edu. Smile, gentle heaven! or strike, ungentle And this for Rutland; both bound to revenge, death!

Wert thou environ'd with a brazen wall. l'or this world frowns, and Edward's sun is clouded. Clif. Now, Richard, I am with thee here alone : War. How now, my lord? what hap? what hope This is the hand, that stabb'd thy father York ; of good?

And this the hand, that slew thy brother Rutland;

And here's the heart, that triumphs in their death, Enter GEORGE.

And cheers these bands, that slew thy sire and Ges. Our hap is loss, our hope but sad de

brother, spair ;

To execute the like upon thyself ; Our ranks are broke, and ruin follows us :

And so, have at thee. What counsel give you, whither shall we fly?

[They fight. Warwick enters; Clifford flies. Edr. Bootless is flight, they follow us with wings : Rich. Nay, Warwick, single out some other chase; And weak we are, and cannot shun pursuit. For I myself will hunt this wolf to death. [Ereunt.

SCENE V. - Another Part of the Field.

O heavy times, begetting such events!

From London by the king was I press'd forth; Alarum. Enter KING HENRY.

My father, being the earl of Warwick's man,

Came on the part of York, press'd by his master ; X. Hen. This battle fares like to the morning's And I, who at his hands receiv'd iny life, war,

Have by my hands of life bereaved him. When dying clouds contend with growing light; Pardon me, God, I knew not what I did !What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails, And pardon, father, for I knew not thee ! Can neither call it perfect day, nor night.

My tears shall wipe away these bloody marks ; Now sways it this way, like a mighty sea,

And no more words, till they have flow'd their fill. Fore'd by the tide to combat with the wind ;

X. Hen. O piteous spectacle ! O bloody times ! Now sways it that way, like the self-same sea Whilst lions war, and battle for their dens, Forc'd to retire by fury of the wind :

Poor harmless lambs abide their enmity, Sometime, the flood prevails; and then, the wind : Weep, wretched man, I'll aid thee, tear for tear ; Now, one the better; then, another best ;

And let our hearts, and eyes, like civil war, Both tugging to be victors, breast to breast, Be blind with tears, and break o'ercharg'd with Yet neither conqueror, nor conquered :

grief. So is the equal poise of this fell war. Here on this molehill will I sit me down.

Enter a Father, who has killed his Son, with the To whom God will, there be the victory!

.. body in his arms. For Margaret my queen, and Clifford too,

Fath. Thou that so stoutly hast resisted the, Have chid me from the battle; swearing both, Give me thy gold, if thou hast any gold ; They prosper best of all when I am thence. For I have bought it with an hundred blows. 'Would I were dead! if God's good will were so : But let me see:- is this our foeman's face? For what is in this world, but grief and woe? Ah, no, no, no, it is mine only son ! O God ! methinks it were a happy life,

Ah, boy, if any life be left in thee, To be no better than a homely swain;

Throw up thine eye; see, see, what showers arise, To sit upon a hill, as I do now,

Blown with the windy tempest of my lieart, To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, Upon thy wounds, that kill mine eye and heart! Thereby to see the minutes how they run :

0, pity, God, this miserable age! How many make the hour full complete,

What stratagems, how fell, how butcherly, How many hours bring about the day,

Erroneous, mutinous, and unnatural, How many days will finish up the year,

This deadly quarrel daily doth beget! How many years a mortal man may live.

boy, thy father gave thee life too soon, When this is known, then to divide the times : And hath bereft thee of thy life too late ! So many hours must I tend my flock;

K. Hen. Woe above woe! grief more than comSo many hours must I take my rest;

mon grief ! So many hours must I contemplate ;

O, that my death would stay these ruthful deeds! So many hours must I sport myself ;

O pity, pity, gentle heaven, pity! -
So many days my ewes have been with young; The red rose and the white are on his face,
So many weeks ere the poor fools will yean; The fatal colours of our striving houses :
So many years ere I shall sheer the fleece;

The one, his purple blood right well resembles ; So minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years, The other, his pale cheeks, methinks, present : Pass'd over to the end they were created,

Wither one rose, and let the other flourish! Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave. If you contend, a thousand lives must wither. Ah, what a life were this! how sweet ! how lovely! Son. How will my mother, for a father's death, Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade Take on with me, and ne'er be satisfied ? To shepherds, looking on their silly sheep,

Fath. How will my wife, for slaughter of my soha Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy

Shed seas of tears, and ne'er be satisfied ? To kings, that fear their subjects' treachery ? K. Hen. How will the country, for these wofah O, yes it doth ; a thousand fold it doth.

chances, And to conclude, - the shepherd's homely curds, Misthink the king, and not be satisfied ? His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle,

Son. Was ever son, so ru'd a father's death? His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade,

Fath. Was ever father, so bemoan'd a son? All which secure and sweetly he enjoys,

K. Hen. Was ever king, so griev'd for subjects Is far beyond a prince's delicates,

woe? His viands sparkling in a golden cup,

Much is your sorrow ; mine, ten times 50 much. His body couched in a curious bed,

Son. I'll bear thee hence, where I may weep T When care, mistrust, and treason wait on him.

fill.

(Erit, with the bus Alarum. Enter a Son that has killed his Father,

Fath. These arms of mine shall be thy winding

sheet ; dragging in the dead body.

My heart, sweet boy, shall be thy sepulchre ; Son. Ill blows the wind, that profits no-body. - For from my heart thine image ne'er shall go. This man, whom hand to hand i slew in fight, My sighing breast shall be thy funeral bell; May be possessed with some store of crowns : And so obsequious will thy father be, And I, that haply take them from him now, Sad for the loss of thee, having no more, May yet ere night yield both my life and them As Priam was for all his valiant sons. To some man eise, as this dead man doth me. - I'll bear thee hence; and let them fight that will, Who's this ? - O God! it is my father's face, For I have murder'd where I should not kill. Whom in this conflict I unwares have kill'd.

(Eri, with the body

I. Hen. Sad-hearted men, much overgone with Command an argosy to stem the waves.
care,

But think you, lords, that Clifford Aed with them? Here sits a king more woful than you are.

War. No, 'tis impossible he should escape : Alarums : Excursions. Enter Queen MARGARET, | Your brother Richard mark'a him for the grave :

For, though before his face I speak the words,
PRINCE OF Wales, and EXETER.

And, wheresoe'er he is, he's surely dead.
Prince. Fly, father, fly! for all your friends are

(Clifford groans, and dies. fled,

Edw. Whose soul is that which takes her heavy And Warwick rages like a chafed bull:

leave ? Away! for death doth hold us in pursuit.

Rich. A deadly groan, like life and death's departQ. Mar. Mount you, my lord ; towards Berwick

ing. post amain :

Edw. See who it is : and, now the battle's ended, Edward and Richard, like a brace of greyhounds : If friend, or foe, let him be gently us'd. Having the fearful flying hare in sight,

Rich. Revoke that doom of mercy, for 'tis ClifWith fiery eyes, sparkling for very wrath,

ford; And bloody steel grasp'd in their ireful hands, Who, not contented that he lopp'd the branch Are at our backs; and therefore hence remain. In hewing Rutland when his leaves put forth, Ere. Away! for vengeance comes along with But set his murdering knife unto the root them :

From whence that tender spray did sweetly spring, Nay, stay not to expostulate, make speed;

I mean, our princely father, duke of York. Or else come after, I'll away before.

War. From off the gates of York fetch down the 1. Hen. Nay, take me with thee, good sweet

head, Exeter ;

Your father's head, which Clifford placed there : Not that I fear to stay, but love to go

Instead whereof, let this supply the room ; Whither the queen intends. Forward ; away! Measure for measure must be answered.

[Ereunt. Edw. Bring forth that fatal screech-owl to our

house, SCENE VI. - The same.

That nothing sung but death to us and ours : A loud Alarum. Enter CLIFFORD, wounded.

Now death shall stop his dismal threatening sound,

And his ill-boding tongue no more shall speak. Chf. Here burns my candle out, ay, here it dies,

[Attendants bring the body forward. Which, while it lasted, gave king Henry light. War. I think his understanding is bereft :0, Lancaster! I fear thy overthrow,

Speak, Clifford, dost thou know who speaks to More than my body's parting with my soul.

thee? My love, and fear, glew'd many friends to thee; Dark cloudy death o'ershades his beams of life, And, now I fall, thy tough commixtures melt. And he nor sees, nor hears us what we say. Impairing Henry, strength'ning mis-proud York, Rich. O, would he did! and so, perhaps, he doth; The common people swarm like summer flies :

'Tis but his policy to counterfeit, And whither Ay the gnats, but to the sun ?

Because he would avoid such bitter taunts And who shines now but Henry's cnemies ? Which in the time of death he gave our father. O Pricebus ! hadst thou never given consent

Geo. If so thou think'st, vex him with eager That Phaeton should check thy fiery steeds,

words. Thy burning car never had scorch'd the earth : Rich. Clifford, ask mercy, and obtain no grace. And Henry, had'st thou sway'd as kings should do, Edw. Clifford, repent in bootless penitence. Or as thy father, and his father, did,

War. Clifford, devise excuses for thy faults. Giring no ground unto the house of York,

Geo. While we devise fell tortures for thy faults. They never then had sprung like summer flies; Rich. Thou didst love York, and I am son to I, and ten thousand in this luckless realm,

York. Had left no mourning widows for our death, Edw. Thou pitied'st Rutland, I will pity thee. Aal thou this day hadst kept thy chair in peace. Geo. Where's captain Margaret, to fence you now? For what doth cherish weeds, but gentle air ?

War. They mock thee, Clifford ! swear as thou And what makes robbers bold, but too much lenity ?

wast wont. Bontless are plaints, and cureless are my wounds :

Rich. What, not an oath ? nay, then the world Ho way to fly, nor strength to hold out flight; The foe is merciless, and will not pity;

When Clifford cannot spare his friends an oath : Por, at their hands, I have deserv'd no pity. I know by that, he's dead; And, by my soul, The air bath got into my deadly wounds,

If this right hand would buy two hours' life, And much effuse of blood doth make me faint: That I in all despite might rail at him, Care, York, and Richard, Warwick, and the rest; This hand should chop it off; and with the issuing stabb's your fathers' bosoms, split my breast.

blood

(He faints. Stifle the villain, whose unstaunched thirst um and retreat. Enter EDWARD, GEORGE,

York and young Rutland could not satisfy.

War. Ay, but he's dead : Off with the traitor's RICHARD, MONTAGUE, WARWICK, and Soldiers.

head, Edu. Now breathe we, lords ; good fortune bids And rear it in the place your father's stands. us pause,

And now to London with triumphant march, And smooth the frowns of war with peaceful looks. There to be crowned England's royal king. Come troops pursue the bloody-minded queen ;- From whence shall Warwick cut the sea to Franca, Shat led calm Henry, though he were a king, And ask the lady Bona for thy queen : is doth a sail, filld with a fretting gust,

So shalt thou sinew both these lands together ;

goes hard,

And, having France thy friend thou shalt not dread Wherein thy counsel and consent is wanting. The scatter'd foe, that hopes to rise again ;

Richard, I will create thee duke of Gloster ; For though they cannot greatly sting to hurt, And George, of Clarence;- Warwick, as ourself, Yet look to have them buz, to offend thine ears. Shall do, and undo, as him pleaseth best. First, will I see the coronation;

Rich. Let me be duke of Clarence ; George, of And then to Britany I'll cross the sea,

Gloster;
To effect this marriage, so it please my lord. For Gloster's dukedom is too ominous.

Edw. Even as thou wilt, sweet Warwick, let it be : War. Tut, that's a foolish observation ;
For on thy shoulder do I build my seat ;

Richard, be duke of Gloster ; Now to London, And never will I undertake the thing,

To see these honours in possession, (Erectal

ACT III.

SCENE I. - A Chace in the North of England. She, on his left side, craving aid for Henry;

He, on his right, asking a wife for Edward. Enter Two Keepers, with cross-bows in their hands. She weeps, and says

- her Henry is depos'd ; 1 Keep. Under this thick-grown brake we'll shroud

He smiles, and says

his Edward is install'd; ourselves ;

That she poor wretch, for grief can speak no more: For through this laund anon the deer will come ; Whiles Warwick tells his title, smooths the wrong, And in this covert will we make our stand,

Inferreth arguments of mighty strength; Culling the principal of all the deer.

And, in conclusion, wins the king from her, 2 Keep. I'll stay above the hill, so both may shoot. With promise of his sister, and what else, 1 Keep. That cannot be; the noise of thy cross- To strengthen and support king Edward's place. bow

O Margaret, thus 'twill be ; and thou, poor soul, Will scare the herd, and so my shoot is lost. Art then forsaken, as thou went'st forlorn. Here stand we both, and aim we at the best :

2 Keep. Say, what art thou, that talk'st of kings And, for the time shall not seem tedious,

and queens? I'll tell thee what befell me on a day,

K. Hen. More than I seem, and less than I was In this self-place where now we mean to stand.

born to : 2 keep. Here comes a man, let's stay till he be A man at least, for less I should not be; past.

And men may talk of kings, and why not I? Enler King Henry, disguised, with a prayer-book.

2 Keep. Ay, but thou talk'st as if thou wert 3

king. K. Hen. Froin Scotland am I stol'n, even of pure

K. Hen. Why, so I am, in mind; and that's love,

enough. To greet mine own land with my wishful sight. 2 Keep. But, if thou be a king, where is thy crowa? No, Harry, Harry, 'tis no land of thine ;

K. Hen. My crown is in my heart, not on muy head Thy place is fill'd, thy scepter wrung from thee, Not deck'd with diamonds, and Indian stones, Thy balm wash'd off, wherewith thou wast anointed : Nor to be seen: my crown is call’d, content ; No bending knee will call thee Cæsar now,

A crown it is, that seldom kings enjoy. No humble suitors press to speak for right,

2 Keep. Well, if you be a king crown'd No, not a man comes for redress of thee;

content, For how can I help them, and not myself? Your crown content, and you, must be contented 1 Keer. Ay, here's a deer whose skin's a keeper's To go along with us : for, as we think,

You are the king, king Edward hath depos'd; This is the quondam king; let's seize upon him." And we his subjects, sworn in all allegiance,

- Hen. Let me embrace these sour adversities : Will apprehend you as his enemy. For wisc men say, it is the wisest course.

K. Hen. But did you never swear, and break z zcep. Why linger we? let us lay hands upon

oath? him.

2 Keep. No, never such an oath ; nor will not ner i Xeep. Forbear a while; we'll hear a little mor K. Hen. Where did you dwell, when I was bin r. tion. My queen, and son, are gone to France

of England ? for aid ;

2 Keep. Here in this country, where we not And, as I hear, the great commanding Warwick

main. Is thither gone, to crave the French king's sister X. Hen. I was anointed king at nine months old To wife for Edward : If this news be true,

My father, and my grandfather, were kings; i Poor queen and son, your labour is but lost ; And you were sworn true subjects unto me: For Warwick is a subtle orator,

And, tell me then, have you not broke your And Lewis a prince soon won with moving words. 1 Keep. No; By this account, then, Margaret may win him ; For we were subjects, but while you were kini For she's a woman to be pity'd much :

K. Hen. Why, am I dead? do I not brusibe Her sighs will make a battery in his breast;

man ? Her tears will pierce into a marble heart;

Ah, simple men, you know not what you sweat. The tiger will be mild, while she doth mourn; Look, as I blow this feather from my face, And Nero will be tainted with remorse,

And as the air blows it to me again,
To hear, and see, her plaints, her brinish tears. Obeying with my wind when I do blow,
Ay, but she's come to beg; Warwick, to give : And yielding to another when it blows,

fee :

.

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