Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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North. And he doth sinne that doth belye the dead:
North. Not he, which sayes the dead is not aliue:
North. Yet the first bringer of unwelcome Newes
North. Hath but a loosing Office: and his Tongue,
North. Sounds ever after as a sullen Bell
North. Remembred, knolling a departing Friend.
L. Bar. L. Bar.
L. Bar. I cannot thinke (my Lord) your son is dead.
Mor. Mor.
Mor. I am sorry, I should force you to beleeue
Mor. That, which I would to heauen, I had not seene.
Mor. But these mine eyes, saw him in bloody state,
Mor. Rendering faint quittance (wearied, and out‑breath'd).
Mor. To Henrie Monmouth, whose swift wrath beate downe
Mor. The neuer‑daunted Percie to the earth,
Mor. From whence (with life) he never more sprung up.
Mor. In few; his death (whose spirit lent a fire,
Mor. Even to the dullest Peazant in his Campe)
Mor. Being bruited once, tooke fire and heate away
Mor. From the best temper'd Courage in his Troopes.