Yorke and young Rutland could not satisfie.
War. I, but he is dead, off with the traitors head,
And reare it in the place your fathers stands.
And now to London with triumphant march,
145 There to be crowned Englands lawfull king.
From thence shall Warwike crosse the seas to France,
And aske the ladie Bona for thy Queene,
So shalt thou sinew both these landes togither,
[♦] And hauing France thy friend thou needst not dread,
150 The scattered foe that hopes to rise againe.