Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Buck. And his enforcement of the Citie Wiues,
Buck. His Tyrannie for Trifles, his owne Bastardie,
Buck. As being got, your Father then in France,
Buck. And his resemblance, being not like the Duke.
Buck. Withall, I did inferre your Lineaments,
Buck. Being the right Idea of your Father,
Buck. Both in your forme, and Noblenesse of Minde:
Buck. Layd open all your Victories in Scotland,
Buck. Your Discipline in Warre, Wisdome in Peace,
Buck. Your Bountie, Vertue, faire Humilitie:
Buck. Indeed, left nothing fitting for your purpose,
Buck. Vntoucht, or sleightly handled in discourse.
Buck. And when my Oratorie drew toward end,
Buck. I bid them that did loue their Countries good,
Buck. Cry, God saue Richard, Englands Royall King.
Rich. Rich.
Rich. And did they so?
Buck. Buck.
Buck. No, so God helpe me, they spake not a word,
Buck. But like dumbe Statues, or breathing Stones,