Thy due, from me,
Is Teares, and heauie Sorrowes of the Blood,
Which Nature, Loue, and filiall tendernesse,
Shall (O deare Father) pay thee plenteously.
My due, from thee, is this Imperiall Crowne,
Which (as immediate from thy Place, and Blood)
Deriues it selfe to me. Loe, heere it sits,
Which Heauen shall guard:
And put the worlds whole strength into one gyant Arme,
It shall not force this Lineall Honor from me.
This, from thee, will I to mine leaue,
As 'tis left to me.
Enter.
Enter Warwicke, Gloucester, Clarence.
King. Warwicke, Gloucester, Clarence
Clar. Doth the King call?
War. What would your Maiestie? how fares your
Grace?
King. Why did you leaue me here alone (my Lords?)
Cla. We left the Prince (my Brother) here (my Liege)
Who vndertooke to sit and watch by you
King. The Prince of Wales? where is hee? let mee
see him
War. This doore is open, hee is gone this way
Glo. Hee came not through the Chamber where wee
stayd
King. Where is the Crowne? who tooke it from my
Pillow?
War.
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