Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Mar. These words haue turn'd my Hate, to Loue,
Mar. And I forgiue, and quite forget old faults,
Mar. And ioy that thou becom'st King Henries Friend.
War. War.
War. So much his Friend, I, his vnfained Friend,
War. That if King Lewis vouchsafe to furnish vs
War. With some few Bands of chosen Soldiours,
War. Ile vndertake to Land them on our Coast,
War. And force the Tyrant from his seat by Warre.
War. 'Tis not his new‑made Bride shall succour him.
War. And as for Clarence, as my Letters tell me,
War. Hee's very likely now to fall from him,
War. For matching more for wanton Lust, then Honor,
War. Or then for strength and safety of our Country.
Bona. Bona.
Bona. Deere Brother, how shall Bona be reueng'd,
Bona. But by thy helpe to this distressed Queene?
Mar. Mar.
Mar. Renowned Prince, how shall Poore Henry liue,
Mar. Vnlesse thou rescue him from foule dispaire?