[275] Did to thy father, steep’d in Rutland’s blood,—
[♦] A handkerchief; which, say to her, did drain
[♦] The purple sap from her sweet brother’s body,
[♦] And bid her dry her weeping eyes therewith.
[♦] If this inducement force her not to love,
[280] Send her a story of thy noble acts;
Tell her thou madest away her uncle Clarence,
[♦] Her uncle Rivers; yea, and, for her sake,
Madest quick conveyance with her good aunt Anne.
[♦] K. Rich. Come, come, you mock me; this is not the way