And spread they shall vnto thy deepe disgrace.
[♦] Come sonne, lets awaie and leaue him heere alone.
King. Staie gentle Margaret, and here me speake.
220 Queene. Thou hast spoke too much alreadie, therefore be still.
King. Gentle sonne Edwarde, wilt thou staie with me?
[♦] Quee. I, to be murdred by his enemies. Exit.
Prin. When I returne with victorie from the field,
Ile see your Grace, till then Ile follow her. Exit.
225 King. Poore Queene, her loue to me and to the prince Her sonne,
[♦] Makes hir in furie thus forget hir selfe.