Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Hen. Oh that there were some vertue in my teares,
Hen. That might releeue you.
Iohn. Iohn.
Iohn. The salt in them is hot.
Iohn. Within me is a hell, and there the poyson
Iohn. Is, as a fiend, confin'd to tyrannize,
Iohn. On vnrepreeuable condemned blood.
Iohn. Enter Bastard.
Bast. Bast.
Bast. Oh, I am scalded with my violent motion
Bast. And spleene of speede, to see your Maiesty.
Iohn. Oh Cozen, thou art come to set mine eye:
Iohn. The tackle of my heart, is crack'd and burnt,
Iohn. And all the shrowds wherewith my life should faile,
Iohn. Are turned to one thred, one little haire:
Iohn. My heart hath one poore string to stay it by,
Iohn. Which hold but till thy newes be vttered,
Iohn. And then all this thou seest, is but a clod,
Iohn. And module of confounded royalty.