Looke Lancaster,

Yonder is Edward among his flatterers.

No Edward, no, thy flatterers faint and flie.

Then Edward, thou wilt fight it to the last,

And rather bathe thy sword in subjects bloud,

Then banish that pernicious companie?

England, unkinde to thy nobilitie,

Grone for this greefe, behold how thou art maimed.

What Mortimer? can ragged stonie walles

Immure thy vertue that aspires to heaven?

No Edward, Englands scourge, it may not be,

Mortimers hope surmounts his fortune farre.