And heap'd sedition on his crown at home.
For what hath broach'd this tumult but thy pride?
Hadst thou been meek, our title still had slept;
And we, in pity of the gentle king,
Had slipp'd our claim until another age.

GEORGE.
But when we saw our sunshine made thy spring,
And that thy summer bred us no increase,
We set the axe to thy usurping root;
And though the edge hath something hit ourselves,
Yet, know thou, since we have begun to strike,
We'll never leave till we have hewn thee down
Or bath'd thy growing with our heated bloods.

EDWARD.
And in this resolution I defy thee;
Not willing any longer conference,
Since thou deniest the gentle king to speak.--
Sound trumpets;--let our bloody colours wave,
And either victory or else a grave!

QUEEN MARGARET.
Stay, Edward.

EDWARD.
No, wrangling woman, we'll no longer stay;
These words will cost ten thousand lives this day.

[Exeunt.]