Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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War. I do beleeue that violent hands were laid
War. Vpon the life of this thrice‑famed Duke.
Suf. Suf.
Suf. A dreadfull Oath, sworne with a solemn tongue:
Suf. What instance giues Lord Warwicke for his vow.
War. War.
War. See how the blood is setled in his face.
War. Oft haue I seene a timely‑parted Ghost,
War. Of ashy semblance, meager, pale, and bloodlesse,
War. Being all descended to the labouring heart,
War. Who in the Conflict that it holds with death,
War. Attracts the same for aydance 'gainst the enemy,
War. Which with the heart there cooles, and ne're returneth,
War. To blush and beautifie the Cheeke againe.
War. But see, his face is blacke, and full of blood:
War. His eye‑balles further out, than when he liued,
War. Staring full gastly, like a strangled man:
War. His hayre vprear'd, his nostrils stretcht with strugling:
War. His hands abroad display'd, as one that graspt
War. And tugg'd for Life, and was by strength subdude.