That Edward may be still fair England’s king!
But day’s bright beam doth vanish fast away,
And needs I must resign my wishèd crown.
Inhuman creatures, nursed with tiger’s milk,
Why gape you for your sovereign’s overthrow?—
My diadem, I mean, and guiltless life.
See, monsters, see, I’ll wear my crown again.
What, fear you not the fury of your king?
* * * * *
I’ll not resign, but, whilst I live, be king!”