To Iohn my brother I resigne my crowne:
Arthur is French and rebell to the state:
Seeke not with wilfull hands to hasten downe
What I haue built by future time’s debate:
Factions will grow, and I foresee the fate,
The wofull fate that England will betide
When I am gone, that did enrich her pride.
93.
Not long thy king, deare England, can I be,
Death’s cold begins into my heart to creepe,