Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Queene. And Princes Courts be fill'd with my reproach:
Queene. This get I by his death: Aye me vnhappie,
Queene. To be a Queene, and Crown'd with infamie.
King. King.
King. Ah woe is me for Gloster, wretched man.
Queen. Queen.
Queen. Be woe for me, more wretched then he is.
Queen. What, Dost thou turne away, and hide thy face?
Queen. I am no loathsome Leaper, looke on me.
Queen. What? Art thou like the Adder waxen deafe?
Queen. Be poysonous too, and kill thy forlorne Queene.
Queen. Is all thy comfort shut in Glosters Tombe?
Queen. Why then Dame Elianor was neere thy ioy.
Queen. Erect his statue, and worship it,
Queen. And make my Image but an Ale‑house signe.
Queen. Was I for this nye wrack'd vpon the Sea,
Queen. And twice by aukward winde from Englands banke
Queen. Droue backe againe vnto my Natiue Clime.
Queen. What boaded this? but well fore‑warning winde
Queen. Did seeme to say, seeke not a Scorpions Nest,