Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Iohn. You are wel encountred here (my cosin Mowbray)
Iohn. Good day to you, gentle Lord Archbishop,
Iohn. And so to you Lord Hastings, and to all.
Iohn. My Lord of Yorke, it better shew'd with you,
Iohn. When that your Flocke (assembled by the Bell)
Iohn. Encircled you, to heare with reuerence
Iohn. Your exposition on the holy Text,
Iohn. Then now to see you heere an Iron man
Iohn. Chearing a rowt of Rebels with your Drumme,
Iohn. Turning the Word, to Sword; and Life to death:
Iohn. That man that sits within a Monarches heart,
Iohn. And ripens in the Sunne‑shine of his fauor,
Iohn. Would hee abuse the Countenance of the King,
Iohn. Alack, what Mischiefes might hee set abroach,
Iohn. In shadow of such Greatnesse? With you, Lord Bishop,
Iohn. It is euen so. Who hath not heard it spoken,
Iohn. How deepe you were within the Bookes of Heauen?
Iohn. To vs, the Speaker in his Parliament;
Iohn. To vs, th'imagine Voyce of Heauen it selfe:
Iohn. The very Opener, and Intelligencer,