And chatt'ring pies in dismal discord sung.
Thy mother felt more than a mother's pain,
And yet brought forth less than a mother's hope,
An indigested and deformed lump,
Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree.
Teeth hadst thou in thy head when thou wast born,
To signify thou cam'st to bite the world;
And, if the rest be true which I have heard,
Thou cam'st--

GLOSTER.
I'll hear no more. Die, prophet, in thy speech.

[Stabs him.]

For this, amongst the rest, was I ordain'd.

KING HENRY.
Ay, and for much more slaughter after this.
O, God forgive my sins, and pardon thee!

[Dies.]

GLOSTER.
What! will the aspiring blood of Lancaster
Sink in the ground? I thought it would have mounted.
See, how my sword weeps for the poor King's death!
O, may such purple tears be always shed
From those that wish the downfall of our house!--
If any spark of life be yet remaining,