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To kings, that fear their subjects' treachery? * O, yes it doth; a thousand fold it doth. *And to conclude,-the shepherds homely curds, *His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle, * His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade, * All which secure and sweetly he enjoys, * Is far beyond a prince's delicates, * His viands sparkling in a golden cup, His body couched in a curious bed, *When care, mistrust, and treason, wait on him.

Alarum. Enter a Son that has killed his father,

dragging in the dead body.

Son. Ill blows the wind, that profits nobody."This man, whom hand to hand I slew in fight, 'May be possessed with some store of crowns: And I, that haply take them from him now, *May yet ere night yield both my life and them To some man else, as this dead man doth me.'Who's this?-O God! it is my father's face, "Whom in this conflict I unawares have kill'd. "O heavy times, begetting such events! "From London by the king was I press'd forth; My father, being the earl of Warwick's man, 'Came on the part of York, press'd by his master; 'And I, who at his hands receiv'd my life, Have by my hands of life bereaved him. 'Pardon me, God, I knew not what I did! And pardon, father, for I knew not thee!

My tears shall wipe away these bloody marks; And no more words, till they have flow'd their fill. 'K. Hen. O piteous spectacle! O bloody times! Whilst lions war, and battle for their dens, 'Poor harmless lambs abide their enmity.-

Weep, wretched man, I'll aid thee tear for tear; * And let our hearts, and eyes, like civil war, * Be blind with tears, and break o'ercharg'd with grief.

Enter a Father who has killed his son, with the body in his arms.

'Fath. Thou that so stoutly hast resisted me, 'Give me thy gold, if thou hast any gold; For I have bought it with a hundred blows.'But let me see:-is this our focman's face? Ah, no, no, no, it is mine only son!Ah, boy, if any life be left in thee, *Throw up thine eye; see, see, what showers arise, * Blown with the windy tempest of my heart, *Upon thy wounds, that kill mine eye and heart!O, pity, God, this miserable age!'What stratagems, how fell, how butcherly, 'Erroneous, mutinous, and unnatural, This deadly quarrel daily doth beget!O boy, thy father gave thee life too soon, And hath bereft thee of thy life too late! K. Hen. Wo above wo! grief more than mon grief!

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O, that my death would stay these ruthful deeds!
*O pity, pity, gentle heaven, pity!-
The red rose and the white are on his face,
The fatal colours of our striving houses:

The one, his purple blood right well resembles;
*The other, his pale cheeks, methinks, present:
Wither one rose, and let the other flourish!
'If you contend, a thousand lives must wither.
Son. How will my mother, for a father's death,
Take on with me, and ne'er be satisfied?
Fath. How will my wife, for slaughter of my

son,

'Shed seas of tears, and ne'er be satisfied?

(1) This word here means dreadful events. (2) Think unfavourably of.

'K. Hen. How will the country for these wo-
ful chances,

'Misthink the king, and not be satisfied?
'Son. Was ever son, so rued a father's death?
'Fath. Was ever father, so bemoan'da son?
'K. Hen. Was ever king, so griev'd for subjects'
wo?

Much is your sorrow; mine, ten times so much.
Son. I'll bear thee hence, where I may weep
my fill.
[Exit, with the body.
*Fath. These arms of mine shall be thy wind.
ing-sheet;

* My heart, sweet boy, shall be thy sepulchre :
*For from my heart thine image ne'er shall go.
*My sighing breast shall be thy funeral bell;
*And so obsequious will thy father be,
* Sad for the loss of thee, having no more,
*As Priam was for all his valiant sons,
I'll bear thee hence; and let them fight that will,
For I have murder'd where I should not kill.

[Exit, with the body. 'K. Hen. Sad-hearted men, much overgone with

care,

'Here sits a king more woful than you are. Alarums: Excursions. Enter Queen Margaret, Prince of Wales, and Exeter.

'Prince. Fly, father, fly! for all your friends
are fled,

'And Warwick rages like a chafed bull:
'Away! for death doth hold us in pursuit.
'Q. Mar. Mount you, my lord, towards Ber-
wick post amain:

Edward and Richard, like a brace of greyhounds
Having the fearful flying hare in sight,
With fiery eyes, sparkling for very wrath,
Are at our backs; and therefore hence amain.
And bloody steel grasp'd in their ireful hands,
Exe. Away! for vengeance comes along with
them:

Nay, stay not to expostulate, make speed ;
Or else come after, I'll away before.

'K. Hen. Nay, take me with thee, good sweet
Exeter;

Not that I fear to stay, but love to go 'Whither the queen intends. Forward; away!

[Exeunt.

SCENE VI.-The same. A loud alarum. En-
ter Clifford, wounded.

Clif. Here burns my candle out, ay, here it dies,
Which, while it lasted, gave king Henry light.
O, Lancaster! I fear thy overthrow,

More than my body's parting with my soul.
My love, and fear, glew'd many friends to thee;
And, now I fall, thy tough commixtures melt.
Impairing Henry, strength'ning mis-proud York,
The common people swarm like summer flies:
And whither fly the gnats, but to the sun?
And who shines now but Henry's enemies!
O Phoebus! hadst thou never given consent
That Phaton should check thy fiery steeds,
Thy burning car never had scorch'd the earth:
And, Henry, hadst thou sway'd as kings should do,
Or as thy father, and his father, did,
Giving no ground unto the house of York,
*They never then had sprung like summer flies;
I, and ten thousand in this luckless realm,
Had left no mourning widows for our death,
And thou this day hadst kept thy chair in peace.
For what doth cherish weeds but gentle air?
And what makes robbers bold, but too much
lenity?

(3) Careful of obsequies, or funeral rites.

Bootless are plaints, and cureless are my wounds; 'No way to fly, nor strength to hold out flight: The foe is merciless, and will not pity; For, at their hands, I have deserv'd no pity. "The air hath got into my deadly wounds, And much effuse of blood doth make me faint:-Come, York, and Richard, Warwick, and the rest; 'I stabb'd your father's bosom, split my breast.

[He faints. Alarum and Retreat. Enter Edward, George, Richard, Montague, Warwick, and soldiers. 'Edw. Now breathe we, lords; good fortune! bids us pause,

'And smooth the frowns of war with peaceful looks.

War. They mock thee, Clifford: swear as thou

wast wont.

'Rich. What, not an oath? nay, then the world
goes hard,

When Clifford cannot spare his friends an oath :-
I know by that he's dead; And, by my soul,
If this right hand would buy two hours' life,
That I m all despite might rail at him,
This hand should chop it off; and with the is-
suing blood
Stifle the villain, whose unstaunched thirst
York and young Rutland could not satisfy.
War. Ay, but he's dead: Off with the traitor's
head,

And rear it in the place your father's stands.-
And now to London with triumphant march,
;-There to be crowned England's royal king.

* Some troops pursue the bloody-minded queen "That led calm Henry, though he were a king, 'As doth a sail, fill'd with a fretting gust, 'Command an argosy to stem the waves. 'But think you, lords, that Clifford fled with them! War. No, 'tis impossible he should escape: For, though before his face I speak the words, Your brother Richard mark'd him for the grave: 'And, wheresoe'er he is, he's surely dead." [Clifford groans and dies. Edw. Whose soul is that which takes her heavy leave?

Rich. A deadly groan, like life and death's departing.

Edw. See who it is: and, now the battle's ended, If friend, or foe, let him be gently us'd.

Rich. Revoke that doom of mercy, for 'tis
Clifford ;

'Who not contented that he lopp'd the branch
'In hewing Rutland when his leaves put forth,
'But set his murdering knife unto the root
'From whence that tender spray did sweetly

spring,

'I mean our princely father, duke of York.

War. From off the gates of York fetch down the head,

Your father's head, which Clifford placed there: 'Instead whereof, let this supply the room; Measure for measure must be answered.

Edw. Bring forth that fatal screech-owl to our house,

'That nothing sung but death to us and ours: 'Now death shall stop his dismal threatening sound, 'And his ill-boding tongue no more shall speak.

[Attendants bring the body forward. War. I think his understanding is bereft:Speak, Clifford, dost thou know who speaks to

thee?

Dark cloudy death o'ershades his beams of life,
And he nor sees, nor hears us what we say.

Rich. O, 'would he did! and so, perhaps, he doth; "Tis but his policy to counterfeit, "Because he would avoid such bitter taunts, "Which in the time of death he gave our father. Geo. If so thou think'st, vex him with eager words.2

Rich. Clifford, ask mercy, and obtain no grace.
Edw. Clifford, repent in bootless penitence.
War. Clifford, devise excuses for thy faults.
Geo. While we devise fell tortures for thy faults.
'Rich. Thou didst love York, and I am son to
York.

Edw. Thou pitied'st Rutland, I will pity thee. Geo. Where's captain Margaret, to fence you now?

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From whence shall Warwick cut the sea to France, And ask the lady Bona for thy quest

So shalt thou sinew both these together;
And, having France thy friend, thou shalt not
dread

The scatter'd foe, that hopes to rise again;
For though they cannot greatly sting to hurt,
Yet look to have them buzz, to offend thine ears.
First will I see the coronation;

And then to Britany I'll cross the sea,
To effect this marriage, so it please my lord.

Edw. Even as thou wilt, sweet Warwick, let it be:
For on thy shoulder do I build my seat;

* And never will I undertake the thing, * Wherein thy counsel and consent is wanting Richard, I will create thee duke of Gloster :-And George, of Clarence;-Warwick, as ourself, Shell do, and undo, as him pleaseth best.

Rich. Let me be duke of Clarence; George, of Gloster;

For Gloster's dukedom is too ominous.

War. Tut, that's a foolish observation; Richard, be duke of Gloster: Now to London, To see these honours in possession.

ACT III.

[Exeunt.

SCENE I-A chase in the north of England. Enter two Keepers, with cross-bows in their hands.

1 Keep. Under this thick-grown brake we'll shroud ourselves;

'For through this laund' anon the deer will come; And in this covert will we make our stand, Culling the principal of all the deer.

*2 Keep. I'll stay above the hill, so both may shoot.

*1 Keep. That cannot be; the noise of thy crossbow

Will scare the herd, and so my shoot is lost. *Here stand we both, and aim we at the best: And, for the time shall not seem tedious, *I'll tell thee what befell me on a day,

In this self-place where now we mean to stand. 2 Keep. Here comes a man, let's stay till he be past.

Enter Henry, disguised, with a prayer-book. K. Hen. From Scotland am I stol'n, even of

pure love,

To greet mine own land with my wishful sight. 'No, Harry, Harry, 'tis no land of thine;

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No bending knee will call thee Cæsar now, 'No humble suitors press to speak for right, *No, not a man comes for redress of thee; For how can I help them, and not myself?"

1 Keep. Ay, here's a deer whose skin's a keeper's fee:

"This is the quondam king; let's seize upon him. *K. Hen. Let me embrace these sour adversities; *For wise men say, it is the wisest course.

*2 Keep. Why linger we? let us lay hands upon

him.

* 1 Keep. Forbear a while; we'll hear a little*

more.

K. Hen. My queen, and son, are gone to France for aid;

And, as I hear, the great commanding Warwick Is thither gone, to crave the French king's sister To wife for Edward: If this news be true, 'Poor queen, and son, your labour is but lost; 'For Warwick is a subtle orator,

'And Lewis a prince soon won with moving words. "By this account, then, Margaret may win him; 'For she's a woman to be pitied much: *Her sighs will make a battery in his breast; *Her tears will pierce into a marble heart; *The tiger will be mild, while she doth mourn; *And Nero will be tainted with remorse, *To hear, and see, her plaints, her brinish tears. Ay, but she's come to beg; Warwick, to give: She, on his left side, craving aid for Henry; He, on his right, asking a wife for Edward. She weeps, and says-her Henry is depos'd; He smiles, and says-hi Edward is install'd; *That she, poor wretch, for grief can speak no

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*Inferreth arguments of mighty strength; *And, in conclusion, wins the king from her, * With promise of his sister, and what else, *To strengthen and support king Edward's place. *O Margaret, thus 'twill be; and thou, poor soul, * Art then forsaken, as thou went's forlorn.

2 Keep. Say, what art thou, that talk'st of and queens?

*K. Hen. Where did you dwell, when I was king of England?

2 Keep. Here in this country, where we now remain.

* K. Hen. I was anointed king at nine months old;

*My father and my grandfather, were kings; And you were sworn true subjects unto me: And, tell me then, have you not broke your oaths?

* 1 Keep. No;

For we were subjects, but while you were king. *K. Hen. Why, am I dead? "do I not breathe a

man?

Ah, simple men, you know not what you swear. Look, as I blow this feather from my face, * And as the air blows it to me again, *Obeying with my wind when I do blow,

And yielding to another when it blows, *Commanded always by the greater gust; *Such is the lightness of you common men.

But do not break your oaths; for, of that sin *My mild entreaty shall not make you guilty. Go where you will, the king shall be commanded; *And be you kings; command, and I'll obey.

1 Keep. We are true subjects to the king, king Edward..

*K. Hen. So would you be again to Henry,

* If he were seated as king Edward is.

1 Keep. We charge you, in God's name, and in the king's,

To go with us unto the officers.

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K. Hen. In God's name, lead; your king's name be obey'd:

* And what God will, then let your king perform; * And what he will, I humbly yield unto.

[Exeunt. SCENE IL-London. A room in the palace. Enter King Edward, Gloster, Clarence, and Lady Grey.

'K. Edw. Brother of Gloster, at Saint Albans'

field

"This lady's husband, sir John Grey, was slain, His lands then seiz'd on by the conqueror: Her suit is now, to repossess those lands; kingsWhich we in justice cannot well deny, Because in quarrel of the house of York "The worthy gentleman did lose his life.

'K. Hen. More than I seem, and less than I was born to:

'A man at least, for less I should not be; And men may talk of kings, and why not I?

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

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

2 Keep. But, if thou be a king, where is thy crown?

K. Hen. My crown is in my heart, not on my

head;

*Not deck'd with diamonds, and Indian stones, *Nor to be seen: my crown is call'd, content; 'A crown it is, that seldom kings enjoy.

2 Keep. Well, if you be a king crown'd with content,

Your crown content, and you, must be contented To go along with us: for, as we think, 'You are the king, king Edward hath depos'd; And we his subjects, sworn in all allegiance, 'Will apprehend you as his enemy.

*K. Hen. But did you never swear, and break an oath?

2 Keep. No, never such an oath, nor will not

now.

Glo. Your highness shall do well, to grant her suit;

It were dishonour, to deny it her.

K. Edw. It were no less; but yet I'll make a
pause.
'Glo. Yea! is it so ?

I see the lady hath a thing to grant,
Before the king will grant her humble suit.
Clar. He knows the game; How true he keeps
the wind!

Glo. Silence!

[Aside. Aside.

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*K. Edw. How many children hast thou, widow? | tell me.

Clar. I think, he means to beg a child of her.

[Aside. [Aside.

Glo. Nay, whip me then; he'll rather give her
two.

L. Grey. Three, my most gracious lord.
Glo. You shall have four, if you'll be rul'd by him.
[Aside.

'K. Edw. "Twere pity, they should lose their
father's land.

L. Grey. Be pitiful, dread lord, and grant it then.

K. Edw. Lords, give us leave; I'll try this widow's wit.

Glo. Ay, good leave' have you, for you will have leave, 'Till youth take leave, and leave you to the crutch. [Glo. and Clar. retire to the other side. *K. Edw. Now tell me, madam, do you love your children?

L. Grey. Ay, full as dearly as I love myself. K. Edw. And would you not do much, to do them good?

* L. Grey. To do them good, I would sustain some harm.

K. Edw. Then get your husbands lands, to do them good.

L. Grey. Therefore I came unto your majesty. K. Edw. I'll tell you how these lands are to be got. * L. Grey. So shall you bind me to your highness'

service.

*K. Edw. What service wilt thou do me, if I give them?

* L. Grey. What you command, that rests in me to do.

K. Edw. But you will take exceptions to my boon.

L. Grey. No, gracious lord, except I cannot do it.

* K. Edw. Ay, but thou canst do what I mean to ask.

* L. Grey. Why, then I will do what your grace commands.

Glo. He plies her hard; and much rain wears the marble.

[Aside. * Clar. As red as fire! nay, then her wax must melt. [Aside.

L. Grey. Why stops my lord? shall I not hear my task?

K. Edw. An easy task; 'tis but to love a king. L. Grey. That's soon perform'd, because I am a subject.

K. Edw. Why then, thy husband's lands I freely give thee.

L. Grey. I take my leave with many thousand thanks.

Glo. The match is made; she seals it with a' curt'sy.

'K. Edw. But stay thee, 'tis the fruits of love I

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*L. Grey. My mind will never grant what I perceive

Your highness aims at, if I aim aright.

K. Edw. To tell thee plain, I aim to lie with thee. * L. Grey. To tell you plain, I had rather lie in prison.

K. Edw. Why, then thou shalt not have thy husband's lands.

L. Grey. Why, then mine honesty shall be my
dower;

For by that loss I will not purchase them.
'K. Edw. Therein thou wrong'st thy children
mightily.

L. Grey. Herein your highness wrongs both them
and me.

But, mighty lord, this merry inclination
Accords not with the sadness of my suit ;
Please you dismiss me, either with ay, or no.

K. Edw. Ay; if thou wilt say ay, to my request:
No; if thou dost say no, to my demand.

L. Grey. Then, no, my lord. My suit is at an
end.

'Glo. The widow likes him not, she knits her
brows.
[Aside.
Clar. He is the bluntest woer in Christendom.
[Aside.

'K. Edw. [Aside.] Her looks do argue her rc-
plete with modesty ;

Her words do show her wit incomparable;
* All her perfections challenge sovereingty:
One way, or other, she is for a king;
And she shall be my love, or else my queen.-
Say, that king Edward take thee for his queen?
L. Grey. 'Tis better said than done, my gracious
ford;

I am a subject fit to jest withal,
But far unfit to be a sovereign.

K. Edw. Sweet widow, by my state I swear to
thee,

I speak no more than what my soul intends;
And that is, to enjoy thee for my love.

L. Grey. And that is more than I will yield
unto.

I know, I am too mean to be your queen;
And yet too good to be your concubine.
K. Edw. You cavil, widow; I did mean, my

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Thou art a widow, and thou hast some children;
And, by God's mother, I, being but a bachelor,
Have other some: why, 'tis a happy thing
To be the father unto many sons.
Answer no more, for thou shalt be my queen.
Glo. The ghostly father now hath done his shrift.
[Aside.

Clar. When he was made a shriver, 'twas for
shift.
[Aside.

K. Edw. Brothers, you muse what chat we two
have had.

Glo. The widow likes it not, for she looks sad. K. Ed. You'd think it strange if I should marry

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K. Edw. Well, jest on, brothers: I can tell you Why, I can smile, and murder while I smile; both,

Her suit is granted for her husband's lands,

Enter a Nobleman.

Nob. My gracious lord, Henry your foe is taken, 'And brought your prisoner to your palace gate. K. Edw. See, that he be convey'd unto the Tower:

And go we, brothers, to the man that took him,
To question of his apprehension.-
Widow, go you along ;-Lords, use her honourable.
[Exeunt King Edward, Lady Grey, Clarence,

and Lord.

Glo. Ay, Edward will use women honourably. Would he were wasted, marrow, bones, and all, That from his loins no hopeful branch may spring, To cross me from the golden time I look for! And yet, between my soul's desire, and me, *(The lustful Edward's title buried,)

Is Clarence, Henry, and his son young Edward, And all the unlook'd-for issue of their bodies, To take their rooms, ere I can place myself: A cold premeditation for my purpose! *Why, then I do but dream on sovereignty;

Like one that stands upon a promontory, And spies a far-off shore where he would tread, *Wishing his foot were equal with his eye;

And chides the sea that sunders him from thence, * Saying-he'll lade it dry to have his way: * So do I wish the crown, being so far off'; * And so I chide the means that keep me from it; * And so I say I'll cut the causes off, *Flattering me with impossibilities.

My eye's too quick, my heart o'erweens too much, Unless my hand and strength could equal them. Well, say there is no kingdom then for Richard; * What other pleasure can the world afford? 'I'll make my heaven in a lady's lap,

And deck my body in gay ornaments, And witch sweet ladies with my words and looks. 'O miserable thought! and more unlikely,

Than to accomplish twenty golden crowns! Why, love forswore me in my mother's womb: 'And, for I should not deal in her soft laws, 'She did corrupt frail nature with some bribe To shrink mine arm up like a wither'd shrub ; 'To make an envious mountain on my back,

Where sits deformity to mock my body;

To shape my legs of an unequal size;

*To disproportion me in every part,

Like to a chaos, or an unlick'd bear-whelp, *That carries no impression like the dam. And am I then a man to be belov'd?

'O monstrous fault to harbour such a thought!
*Then, since this earth affords no joy to me,
*But to command, to check, to o'erbear such
*As are of better person than myself,

* I'll make my heaven--to dream upon the crown ;
*And, whiles I live, to account this world but hell,
* Until my misshap'd trunk that bears this head,
* Be round impaled' with a glorious crown.

And yet I know not how to get the crown, *For many lives stand between me and home: And I,-like one lost in a thorny wood, *That rents the thorns, and is rent with the thorns; *Seeking a way, and straying from the way; *Not knowing how to find the open air, But toiling desperately to find it out,*Torment myself to catch the English crown: And from that torment I will free myself, Or how my way out with a bloody axe. (1) Encircled.

And cry, content, to that which grieves my heart; *And wet my cheeks with artificial tears,

And frame my face to all occasions.

*I'll drown more sailors than the mermaid shall;
I'll slay more gazers than the basilisk;
I'll play the orator as well as Nestor,
Deceive more slily than Ulysses could,
And, like a Sinon, take another Troy:
I can add colours to the camelion;
Change shapes, with Proteus, for advantages,
And set the murd'rous Machiavel to school.
Can I do this, and cannot get a crown?
Tut! were it further off, I'll pluck it down. [Exit.
SCENE III.--France. A room in the palace.
Flourish. Enter Lewis the French King, and
Lady Bona, attended; the king takes his state.
Then Enter Queen Margaret, Prince Edward
her son, and the Earl of Oxford.

'K. Lew. Fair queen of England, worthy Mar-
garet,
[Rising.

'Sit down with us; it ill befits thy state, And birth, that thou should'st stand, while Lewis doth sit.

*Q. Mar. No, mighty king of France; now

Margaret

* Must strike her sail, and learn a while to serve, Where kings command. I was, I must confess, * Great Albion's queen in former golden days: But now mischance hath trod my title down, * And with dishonour laid me on the ground; * Where I must take like seat unto my fortune, And to my humble seat conform myself. *K. Lew. Why, say, fair queen, whence springs this deep despair?

*Q. Mar. From such a cause as fills mine eyes with tears,⚫

And stops my tongue, while heart is drown'd in

cares.

*K. Lew. Whate'er it be, be thou still like thyself And sit thee by our side yield not thy neck [Seats her by him. To fortune's yoke, but let thy dauntless mind Still ride in triumph over all mischance. Be plain, queen Margaret, and tell thy grief; *It shall be eas'd, if France can yield relief.

Q. Mar. Those gracious words revive my drooping thoughts,

And give my tongue-tied sorrows leave to speak *Now, therefore, be it known to noble Lewis,That Henry, sole possessor of my love,

*Is, of a king, become a banish'd man, And fore'd to live in Scotland a forlorn; *While proud ambitious Edward, duke of York, *Usurps the regal title, and the seat *Of England's true-anointed lawful king. *This is the cause, that I, poor Margaret,With this my son, prince Edward, Henry's heir,Am come to crave thy just and lawful aid; And, if thou fail us, all our hope is done: *Scotland hath will to help, but cannot help; *Our people and our peers are both misled, *Our treasure seiz'd, our soldiers put to flight, *And, as thou see'st, ourselves in heavy plight. *K. Lew. Renowned queen, with patience calm

the storm,

*While we bethink a means to break it off.

* Q. Mar. The more we stay, the stronger grows our foe.

*K. Lew. The more I stay, the more I'll succour

thee.

* Q. Mar. O, but impatience waiteth on true

sorrow:

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