Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Wid. I know, I am too meane to be your Queene,
Wid. And yet too good to be your Concubine.
King. King.
King. You cauill, Widow, I did meane my Queene.
Wid. Wid.
Wid. 'Twill grieue your Grace, my Sonnes should call
Wid. you Father.
King. No more, then when my Daughters
King. Call thee Mother.
King. Thou art a Widow, and thou hast some Children,
King. And by Gods Mother, I being but a Batchelor,
King. Haue other‑some. Why, 'tis a happy thing,
King. To be the Father vnto many Sonnes:
King. Answer no more, for thou shalt be my Queene.
Rich. Rich.
Rich. The Ghostly Father now hath done his Shrift.
Clarence. Clarence.
Clarence. When hee was made a Shriuer, 'twas for shift.