The Tragedie of Richard D. of
1060914Hath robd my
strong knit
sinnews of their
strength,
1061915And force perforce needes mu
st I re
st my
selfe.
1063917Edw. Smile gentle heauens or
strike vngentle death,
1064918That we maie die vnle
sse we gaine the daie:
1065919What fatall
starre malignant frownes from heauen
1066920Vpon the harmele
sse line of
Yorkes true hou
se?
1068922George. Come brother, come, lets to the
field againe,
1069923For yet theres hope inough to win the daie:
1070924Then let vs backe to cheere our fainting Troupes,
1071925Le
st they retire now we haue left the
field.
1072926War. How now my lords: what hap, what hope of good?
1074928Rich. Ah
Warwike, why ha
ste thou withdrawne thy
selfe?
1075929Thy noble father in the thicke
st thronges,
1076930Cride
still for
Warwike his thri
se valiant
son,
1077931Vntill with thou
sand
swords he was be
set,
1078932And manie wounds made in his aged bre
st,
1080933And as he tottering
sate vpon his
steede,
1079934He waft his hand to me and cride aloud
: 1081935Richard, commend me to my valiant
sonne,
936And
still he cride
Warwike reuenge my death,
937And with tho
se words he tumbled o
ff his hor
se,
1082938And
so the noble Sal
sbury gaue vp the gho
st.
1083939War. Then let the earth be drunken with his bloud,
1084940Ile kill my hor
se becau
se I will not
flie:
1089941And here to God of heauen I make a vow,
1090942Neuer to pa
sse from forth this bloudy
field
1091943Till I am full reuenged for his death.
1093944Edw. Lord
Warwike, I doe bend my knees with thine,
And