Thy deeds, thy plainnesse, and thy house-keeping,
Hath wonne the greatest fauour of the Commons,
Excepting none but good Duke Humfrey.
And Brother Yorke, thy Acts in Ireland,
In bringing them to ciuill Discipline:
Thy late exploits done in the heart of France,
When thou wert Regent for our Soueraigne,
Haue made thee fear'd and honor'd of the people,
Ioyne we together for the publike good,
In what we can, to bridle and suppresse
The pride of Suffolke, and the Cardinall,
With Somersets and Buckinghams Ambition,
And as we may, cherish Duke Humfries deeds,
While they do tend the profit of the Land

War. So God helpe Warwicke, as he loues the Land,
And common profit of his Countrey

Yor. And so sayes Yorke,
For he hath greatest cause

Salisbury. Then lets make hast away,
And looke vnto the maine

Warwicke. Vnto the maine?
Oh Father, Maine is lost,
That Maine, which by maine force Warwicke did winne,
And would haue kept, so long as breath did last:
Main-chance father you meant, but I meant Maine,
Which I will win from France, or else be slaine.