Our vncle’s treason and our tragicke fall.
Edward.
Must I begin those bloodie pathes to goe,
In which the prints of Gloster’s steps remaine?
Draw neere then all, that list to heare of woe,
And while our restlesse wrongs I do complaine,
If you lament our losse of life and raigne,
Your sighes soft breathed in still plaints of pitie,
Be the sad musike to our dolefull dittie.
6.