Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Iohn. Good Lords, although my will to giue, is liuing,
Iohn. The suite which you demand is gone, and dead.
Iohn. He tels vs Arthur is deceas'd to night.
Sal. Sal.
Sal. Indeed we fear'd his sicknesse was past cure.
Pem. Pem.
Pem. Indeed we heard how neere his death he was,
Pem. Before the childe himselfe felt he was sicke:
Pem. This must be answer'd either heere, or hence.
Ioh. Ioh.
Ioh. Why do you bend such solemne browes on me?
Ioh. Thinke you I beare the Sheeres of destiny?
Ioh. Haue I commandement on the pulse of life?
Sal. It is apparant foule‑play, and 'tis shame
Sal. That Greatnesse should so grossely offer it;
Sal. So thriue it in your game, and so farewell.
Pem. Stay yet (Lord Salisbury) Ile go with thee,
Pem. And finde th'inheritance of this poore childe,