Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Dut. Is hackt downe, and his summer leafes all vaded
Dut. By Enuies hand, and Murdes bloody Axe.
Dut. Ah Gaunt! His blood was thine, that bed, that wombe,
Dut. That mettle, that selfe‑mould that fashion'd thee,
Dut. Made him a man: and though thou liu'st, and breath'st,
Dut. Yet art thou slaine in him: thou dost consent
Dut. In some large measure to thy Fathers death,
Dut. In that thou seest thy wretched brother dye,
Dut. Who was the modell of thy Fathers life.
Dut. Call it not patience (Gaunt) it is dispaire,
Dut. In suff ring thus thy brother to be slaughter'd,
Dut. Thou shew'st the naked pathway to thy life,
Dut. Teaching sterne murther how to butcher thee:
Dut. That which in meane men we intitle patience
Dut. Is pale cold cowardice in noble brests:
Dut. What shall I say, to safegard thine owne life,
Dut. The best way is to venge my Glousters death.
Gaunt. Gaunt.
Gaunt. Heauens is the quarrel: for heauens substitute
Gaunt. His Deputy annointed in his sight,