[♦] That Phaëthon should check thy fiery steeds,
[♦] Thy burning car never had scorch’d the earth!
And, Henry, hadst thou sway’d as kings should do,
[15] Or as thy father and his father did,
Giving no ground unto the house of York,
[♦] They never then had sprung like summer flies;
I and ten thousand in this luckless realm
[♦] Had left no mourning widows for our death;
20 And thou this day hadst kept thy chair in peace.
[♦] For what doth cherish weeds but gentle air?