Upon thy wounds, that kills mine eye and heart.
O! pity, God, this miserable age. 88
What stratagems, how fell, how butcherly,
Erroneous, mutinous, and unnatural,
This deadly quarrel daily doth beget!
O boy! thy father gave thee life too soon, 92
And hath bereft thee of thy life too late.
King. Woe above woe! grief more than common grief!
O! that my death would stay these ruthful deeds.
O! pity, pity; gentle heaven, pity. 96
The red rose and the white are on his face,
The fatal colours of our striving houses:
The one his purple blood right well resembles;
The other his pale cheeks, methinks, presenteth: 100
Wither one rose, and let the other flourish!
If you contend, a thousand lives must wither.
Son. How will my mother for a father's death
Take on with me and ne'er be satisfied! 104
Fath. How will my wife for slaughter of my son
Shed seas of tears and ne'er be satisfied!
King. How will the country for these woeful chances
Misthink the king and not be satisfied! 108
Son. Was ever son so ru'd a father's death?
Fath. Was ever father so bemoan'd his son?
King. Was ever king so griev'd for subjects' woe?
Much is your sorrow; mine, ten times so much. 112
Son. I'll bear thee hence, where I may weep my fill.
Fath. These arms of mine shall be thy winding-sheet;
87 Upon: at sight of
90 Erroneous: criminal
93 late: recently
95 ruthful: pitiable
100 presenteth: symbolize
104 Take on: rave
108 Misthink: think ill of
