Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Bull. Bull.
Bull. The shadow of your Sorrow hath destroy'd
Bull. The shadow of your Face.
Rich. Rich.
Rich. Say that againe.
Rich. The shadow of my Sorrow: ha, let's see,
Rich. 'Tis very true, my Griefe lyes all within,
Rich. And these externall manner of Laments,
Rich. Are meerely shadowes, to the vnseen Griefe,
Rich. That swells with silence in the tortur'd Soule.
Rich. There lyes the substance: and I thanke thee King
Rich. For thy great bountie, that not onely giu'st
Rich. Me cause to wayle, but teachest me the way
Rich. How to lament the cause. Ile begge one Boone,
Rich. And then be gone, and trouble you no more.
Rich. Shall I obtaine it?
Bull. Name it, faire Cousin.
Rich. Faire Cousin? I am greater then a King: