♪♪ Guards!

Guards!

See how my sword weeps for the poor King's death.

O may such purple tears is always be shed from those that wish the downfall of our house.

If any spark of life be yet remaining down, down to hell and say I sent thee thither.

I'll marry Warwick's youngest daughter.

What though I kill'd her husband and her father?

The readiest way to make the wench amends is to become her husband and her father.

But yet I run before my horse to market: Georgie still breathes; Edward still lives and reigns: When they are gone, then must I count my gains.

Black night o'’’ershade thy day, and death thy life.

He that bereft thee, lady, of thy husband did it to help thee to a better husband.

His better doth not breathe upon the earth!

He lives!

And loves thee better than he could.

Where is he?

Here.

Ah, gentle villain, do not turn away.

Foul, wrinkled witch, wert thou not banishèd on pain of death?

I was, but I do find more pain in banishment than death can yield me here by my abode.

A husband and a son thou ow'’’st to me.

Either thou wilt die, by God's just ordinance, ere from this war thou turn a conqueror, or I with grief and extreme age shall perish and never behold thy face again.

Therefore take with thee my most grievous curse; Which, in the day of battle, tire thee more than all the complete armour that thou wear'st!

Despair and die, despair and die, despair and die.

Hark!

I hear the drum.

Fight, gentlemen of England.

Fight, bold yeoman.

Draw archers, draw your arrow to the head.

Let us to it pell mell!

If not to heaven, then hand in hand to hell!