If care of our descent perplex us most, Which must be born to certain woe, devourd By Death at last, and miserable it is To be to others cause of misery, Our own begotten, and of our Loines to bring Into this cursed World a woful Race, That after wretched Life must be at last Food for so foule a Monster, in thy power It lies, yet ere Conception to prevent The Race unblest, to being yet unbegot
Yet know: my master, God omnipotent, Is mustering in his clouds on our behalf Armies of pestilence, and they shall strike Your children yet unborn and unbegot
That lift your vassal hands against my head And threat the glory of my precious crown.
85-94, "Yet know, my master, God omnipotent, / Is mustering in his clouds, on our behalf, / Armies of pestilence, and they shall strike / Your children yet unborn, and unbegot
, / That lift your vassal hands against my head, / And threat the glory of my precious crown," we knew that the ghost of Richard would haunt this production and be Henry's constant nightmare.