And we, in pity of the gentle king,
Had slipp’d our claim until another age.
Geo. But when we saw our sunshine made thy spring,
And that thy summer bred us no increase,
165 We set the axe to thy usurping root;
And though the edge hath something hit ourselves,
Yet, know thou, since we have begun to strike,
We’ll never leave till we have hewn thee down,
Or bathed thy growing with our heated bloods.
170 Edw. And, in this resolution, I defy thee;