Reading The life and death of King Richard the Second

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Section 39

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Dut.

Findes brotherhood in thee no sharper spurre?

Hath loue in thy old blood no liuing fire?

Edwards seuen sonnes (whereof thy selfe art one)

Were as seuen violles of his Sacred blood,

Or seuen faire branches springing from one roote:

Some of those seuen are dride by natures course,

Some of those branches by the destinies cut:

But Thomas, my deere Lord, my life, my Glouster,

One Violl full of Edwards Sacred blood,

One flourishing branch of his most Royall roote

Is crack'd, and all the precious liquor spilt;

Is hackt downe, and his summer leafes all vaded

By Enuies hand, and Murde□s bloody Axe.

Ah Gaunt! His blood was thine, that bed, that wombe,

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