Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Rich. Exeunt.
Rich. The rest that loue me, rise, and follow me.
Rich. Manet Louell and Ratcliffe, with the
Rich. Lord Hastings.
Hast. Hast.
Hast. Woe, woe for England, not a whit for me,
Hast. For I, too fond, might haue preuented this:
Hast. Stanley did dreame, the Bore did rowse our Helmes,
Hast. And I did scorne it, and disdaine to flye:
Hast. Three times to day my Foot‑Cloth‑Horse did stumble,
Hast. And started, when he look'd vpon the Tower,
Hast. As loth to beare me to the slaughter‑house.
Hast. O now I need the Priest, that spake to me:
Hast. I now repent I told the Pursuiuant,
Hast. As too triumphing, how mine Enemies
Hast. To day at Pomfret bloodily were butcher'd,
Hast. And I my selfe secure, in grace and fauour.
Hast. Oh Margaret, Margaret, now thy heauie Curse
Hast. Is lighted on poore Hastings wretched Head.
Ra. Ra.