Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Rich. And this world [Loue] which Gray‑beards call Diuine,
Rich. Be resident in men like one another,
Rich. And not in me: I am my selfe alone.
Rich. Clarence beware, thou keept'st me from the Light,
Rich. But I will sort a pitchy day for thee:
Rich. For I will buzze abroad such Prophesies,
Rich. That Edward shall be fearefull of his life,
Rich. And then to purge his feare, Ile be thy death.
Rich. King Henry, and the Prince his Son are gone,
Rich. Clarence thy turne is next, and then the rest,
Rich. Counting my selfe but bad, till I be best.
Rich. Ile throw thy body in another roome,
Rich. And Triumph Henry, in thy day of Doome.
Rich. Exit.
Rich. [Act 5, Scene 7]
Rich. Flourish. Enter King, Queene, Clarence, Richard, Hastings,
Rich. Nurse, and Attendants.
King. King.
King. Once more we sit in Englands Royall Throne,
King. Re‑purchac'd with the Blood of Enemies: