Henry VI, Part iii. Act 1, Scene 4. Queen Margaret
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529 Braue Warriors, Clifford and Northumberland, 530 Come make him stand vpon this Mole-hill here, 531 That raught at Mountaines with out-stretched Armes, 532 Yet parted but the shadow with his Hand. 533 What, was it you that would be Englands King? 534 Was't you that reuell'd in our Parliament, 535 And made a Preachment of your high Descent? 536 Where are your Messe of Sonnes, to back you now? 537 The wanton Edward, and the lustie George? 538 And where's that valiant Crook-back Prodigie. 539 Dickie, your Boy, that with his grumbling voyce 540 Was wont to cheare his Dad in Mutinies? 541 Or with the rest, where is your Darling, Rutland? 542 Looke Yorke, I stayn'd this Napkin with the blood 543 That valiant Clifford, with his Rapiers point, 544 Made issue from the Bosome of the Boy: 545 And if thine eyes can water for his death, 546 I giue thee this to drie thy Cheekes withall. 547 Alas poore Yorke, but that I hate thee deadly, 548 I should lament thy miserable state. 549 I prythee grieue, to make me merry, Yorke. 550 What, hath thy fierie heart so parcht thine entrayles, 551 That not a Teare can fall, for Rutlands death? 552 Why art thou patient, man? thou should'st be mad: 553 And I, to make thee mad, doe mock thee thus. 554 Stampe, raue, and fret, that I may sing and dance. 555 Thou would'st be fee'd, I see, to make me sport: 556 Yorke cannot speake, vnlesse he weare a Crowne. 557 A Crowne for Yorke; and Lords, bow lowe to him: 558 Hold you his hands, whilest I doe set it on. 559 I marry Sir, now lookes he like a King: 560 I, this is he that tooke King Henries Chaire, 561 And this is he was his adopted Heire. 562 But how is it, that great Plantagenet 563 Is crown'd so soone, and broke his solemne Oath? 564 As I bethinke me, you should not be King, 565 Till our King Henry had shooke hands with Death. 566 And will you pale your head in Henries Glory, 567 And rob his Temples of the Diademe, 568 Now in his Life, against your holy Oath? 569 Oh 'tis a fault too too vnpardonable. 570 Off with the Crowne; and with the Crowne, his Head, 571 And whilest we breathe, take time to doe him dead.