And rob his temples of the Diadem
Now in his life against your holie oath?
140 Oh, tis a fault too too vnpardonable.
Off with the crowne, and with the crowne his head,
And whilst we breath, take time to doe him dead.
[♦] Clif. Thats my office for my fathers death.
Queen. Yet stay: & lets here the Orisons he makes.
145 York. She wolfe of France, but worse than Wolues of France:
[♦] Whose tongue more poison’d than the Adders tooth:
How ill beseeming is it in thy sexe,