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Section 129
Passage 1 of 2 · section 129 of 958
1Henry.
2Poore Queene,
3How loue to me, and to her Sonne,
4Hath made her breake out into termes of Rage.
5Reueng'd may she be on that hatefull Duke,
6Whose haughtie spirit, winged with desire,
7Will cost my Crowne, and like an emptie Eagle,
8Tyre on the flesh of me, and of my Sonne.