Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Som. The Queene from France hath brought a puissant power.
Som. Euen now we heard the newes: ah, could'st thou flye.
Warw. Warw.
Warw. Why then I would not flye. Ah Mountague,
Warw. If thou be there, sweet Brother, take my Hand,
Warw. And with thy Lippes keepe in my Soule a while.
Warw. Thou lou'st me not: for, Brother, if thou didst,
Warw. Thy teares would wash this cold congealed blood,
Warw. That glewes my Lippes, and will not let me speake.
Warw. Come quickly Mountague, or I am dead.
Som. Som.
Som. Ah Warwicke, Mountague hath breath'd his last,
Som. And to the latest gaspe, cry'd out for Warwicke:
Som. And said, Commend me to my valiant Brother.
Som. And more he would haue said, and more he spoke,
Som. Which sounded like a Cannon in a Vault,
Som. That mought not be distinguisht: but at last,
Som. I well might heare, deliuered with a groane,
Som. Oh farewell Warwicke.