Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Hotsp. All hot, and bleeding, will wee offer them:
Hotsp. The mayled Mars shall on his Altar sit
Hotsp. Vp to the eares in blood. I am on fire,
Hotsp. To heare this rich reprizall is so nigh,
Hotsp. And yet not ours. Come, let me take my Horse,
Hotsp. Who is to beare me like a Thunder‑bolt,
Hotsp. Against the bosome of the Prince of Wales.
Hotsp. Harry to Harry, shall not Horse to Horse
Hotsp. Meete, and ne're part, till one drop downe a Coarse?
Hotsp. Oh, that Glendower were come.
Ver. Ver.
Ver. There is more newes:
Ver. I learned in Worcester, as I rode along,
Ver. He cannot draw his Power this foureteene dayes.
Dowg. Dowg.
Dowg. That's the worst Tidings that I heare of
Dowg. yet.
Wor. Wor.
Wor. I by my faith, that beares a frosty sound.
Hotsp. Hotsp.