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

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Hen.

Hadst thou bin kill'd, when first yu didst presume,

Thou had'st not liu'd to kill a Sonne of mine:

And thus I prophesie, that many a thousand,

Which now mistrust no parcell of my feare,

And many an old mans sighe, and many a Widdowes,

And many an Orphans water‑standing‑eye,

Men for their Sonnes, Wiues for their Husbands,

Orphans, for their Parents timeles death,

Shall rue the houre that euer thou was't borne.

The Owle shriek'd at thy birth, an euill signe,

The Night‑Crow cry'de, aboding lucklesse time,

Dogs howl'd, and hideous Tempest shook down Trees:

The Rauen rook'd her on the Chimnies top,

And chatt'ring Pies in dismall Discords sung:

Thy Mother felt more then a Mothers paine,

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