Reading The third Part of Henry the Sixt, with the death of the Duke of Yorke

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Section 217

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Richard.

I cannot ioy, vntill I be resolu'd

Where our right valiant Father is become.

I saw him in the Battaile range about,

And watcht him how he fingled Clifford forth.

Me thought he bore him in the thickest troupe,

As doth a Lyon in a Heard of Neat,

Or as a Beare encompass'd round with Dogges:

Who hauing pincht a few, and made them cry,

The rest stand all aloofe, and barke at him.

So far'd our Father with his Enemies,

So fled his Enemies my Warlike Father:

Me thinkes 'tis prize enough to be his Sonne.

See how the Morning opes her golden Gates,

And takes her farwell of the glorious Sunne.

How well resembles it the prime of Youth,

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