I leaue my sonne my vertuous deedes behind,
And would my father had left me no more,
50 For all the rest is held at such a rate,
As askes a thousand times more care to keepe,
Then maie the present profit counteruaile.
Ah cosen Yorke, would thy best friendes did know,
How it doth greeue me that thy head stands there.
55 Quee. My Lord, this harmefull pittie makes your followers faint.
You promisde knighthood to your princelie sonne.
[♦] Vnsheath your sword and straight doe dub him knight.