[♦] And thou shalt tell the process of their death.
[♦] Meantime, but think how I may do thee good,
And be inheritor of thy desire.
[35] Farewell till soon. [Exit Tyrrel.
[♦] The son of Clarence have I pent up close;
His daughter meanly have I match’d in marriage;
The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham’s bosom,
[♦] And Anne my wife hath bid the world good night.
[40] Now, for I know the Breton Richmond aims
At young Elizabeth, my brother’s daughter,