For who liu’d king, but I could dig his graue?
And who durst smile, when Warwike bent his brow?
Lo now my glorie smeerd in dust and bloud,
[15] My parkes, my walkes, my mannors that I had,
Euen now forsake me, and of all my lands,
Is nothing left me but my bodies length.
Enter Oxford and Summerset.
Oxf. Ah Warwike, Warwike, cheere vp thy selfe and liue,
[♦] For yet thears hope enough to win the daie.
20 Our warlike Queene with troopes is come from France,