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♪♪

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Guards!

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Guards!

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See how my sword weeps

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for the poor King's death.

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O may such purple 
tears is always be shed

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from those that wish the 
downfall of our house.

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If any spark of life 
be yet remaining

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down, down to hell and 
say I sent thee thither.

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I'll marry Warwick's 
youngest daughter.

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

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

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and her father.

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But yet I run before my horse to 
market: Georgie still breathes;

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Edward still lives and reigns: 
When they are gone, then must I 
count my gains.

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

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

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His better doth not 
breathe upon the earth!

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He lives! And loves thee 
better than he could.

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Where is he?

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Here.

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Ah, gentle villain, 
do not turn away.

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

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I was, but I do find 
more pain in banishment

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than death can yield me here by 
my abode. A husband and a son 
thou ow'’’st to me.

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Either thou wilt die, by God's 
just ordinance, ere from this 
war

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thou turn a conqueror, or 
I with grief and extreme

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age shall perish and never 
behold thy face again.

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Therefore take with thee my most 
grievous curse; Which, in the 
day of battle, tire

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thee more than all the complete 
armour that thou wear'st!

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

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Hark!

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I hear the drum.

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Fight, gentlemen of England.

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Fight, bold yeoman.

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Draw archers, draw 
your arrow to the head.

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Let us to it pell mell! If not 
to heaven, then hand in hand to 
hell!