Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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King. And my poore Souldiers tell me, yet ere Night,
King. They'le be in fresher Robes, or they will pluck
King. The gay new Coats o're the French Souldiers heads,
King. And turne them out of seruice. If they doe this,
King. As if God please, they shall; my Ransome then
King. Will soone be leuyed.
King. Herauld, saue thou thy labour:
King. Come thou no more for Ransome, gentle Herauld,
King. They shall haue none, I sweare, but these my ioynts:
King. Which if they haue, as I will leaue vm them,
King. Shall yeeld them little, tell the Constable.
Mont. Mont.
Mont. I shall, King Harry. And so fare thee well:
Mont. Thou neuer shalt heare Herauld any more.
Mont. Exit.
King. King.
King. I feare thou wilt once more come againe for a Ransome.
King. Enter Yorke.
Yorke. Yorke.
Yorke. My Lord, most humbly on my knee I begge