And that will quicklie drie your melting tears.
[♦] Clif. Thears for my oath, thears for my fathers death.
[210] Queene. And thears to right our gentle harted kind.
York. Open thy gates of mercie gratious God,
My soule flies foorth to meet with thee.
Queene. Off with his head and set it on Yorke Gates,
So Yorke maie ouerlooke the towne of Yorke. Exeunt omnes.
SC. IV. ead
Edw. After this dangerous fight and haplesse warre,
How doth my noble brother Richard fare?