[♦] ’Tis time to speak; my pains are quite forgot.
[♦] Q. Mar. Out, devil! I remember them too well:
[♦] Thou slewest my husband Henry in the Tower,
120 And Edward, my poor son, at Tewksbury.
[♦] Glou. Ere you were queen, yea, or your husband king,
I was a pack-horse in his great affairs;
A weeder out of his proud adversaries,
A liberal rewarder of his friends:
[125] To royalise his blood I spilt mine own.
[♦] Q. Mar. Yea, and much better blood than his or thine.