Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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King. Toward Callice: Graunt him there; there seene,
King. Heaue him away vpon your winged thoughts,
King. Athwart the Sea: Behold the English beach
King. Pales in the flood; with Men, Wiues, and Boyes,
King. Whose shouts & claps out-voyce the deep-mouth'd Sea,
King. Which like a mightie Whiffler 'fore the King,
King. Seemes to prepare his way: So let him land,
King. And solemnly see him set on to London.
King. So swift a pace hath Thought, that euen now
King. You may imagine him vpon Black-Heath:
King. Where, that his Lords desire him, to haue borne
King. His bruised Helmet, and his bended Sword
King. Before him, through the Citie: he forbids it,
King. Being free from vain-nesse, and selfe-glorious pride;
King. Giuing full Trophee, Signall, and Ostent,
King. Quite from himselfe, to God. But now behold,
King. In the quick Forge and working-house of Thought,
King. How London doth powre out her Citizens,
King. The Maior and all his Brethren in best sort,
King. Like to the Senatours of th'antique Rome,