Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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King. This we prescribe, though no Physition,
King. Deepe malice makes too deepe incision.
King. Forget, forgiue, conclude, and be agreed,
King. Our Doctors say, This is no time to bleed.
King. Good Vnckle, let this end where it begun,
King. Wee'l calme the Duke of Norfolke; you, your son.
Gaunt. Gaunt.
Gaunt. To be a make‑peace shall become my age,
Gaunt. Throw downe (my sonne) the Duke of Norfolkes gage.
King. King.
King. And Norfolke, throw downe his.
Gaunt. When Harrie when? Obedience bids,
Gaunt. Obedience bids I should not bid agen.
King. Norfolke, throw downe, we bidde; there is
King. no boote.
Mow. Mow.
Mow. My selfe I throw (dread Soueraigne) at thy foot.
Mow. My life thou shalt command, but not my shame,