Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Iohn. And from his holinesse vse all your power
Iohn. To stop their marches 'fore we are enflam'd:
Iohn. Our discontented Counties doe reuolt:
Iohn. Our people quarrell with obedience,
Iohn. Searing Allegiance, and the loue of soule
Iohn. To stranger‑bloud, to forren Royalty;
Iohn. This inundation of mistempred humor,
Iohn. Rests by you onely to be qualified.
Iohn. Then pause not: for the present time's so sicke,
Iohn. That present medicine must be ministred,
Iohn. Or ouerthrow incureable ensues.
Pand. Pand.
Pand. It was my breath that blew this Tempest vp,
Pand. Vpon your stubborne vsage of the Pope:
Pand. But since you are a gentle conuertite,
Pand. My tongue shall hush againe this storme of warre,
Pand. And make faire weather in your blustring land:
Pand. On this Ascention day, remember well,
Pand. Vpon your oath of seruice to the Pope,
Pand. Goe I to make the French lay downe their Armes.