[10] His brandish’d sword did blind men with his beams:
His arms spread wider than a dragon’s wings;
[♦] His sparkling eyes, replete with wrathful fire,
More dazzled and drove back his enemies
Than mid-day sun fierce bent against their faces.
15 What should I say? his deeds exceed all speech:
[♦] He ne’er lift up his hand but conquered.
Exe. We mourn in black: why mourn we not in blood?
Henry is dead and never shall revive:
Upon a wooden coffin we attend,