Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Rich. Enter Derby to Richmond in his Tent.
Der. Der.
Der. Fortune, and Victory sit on thy Helme.
Rich. Rich.
Rich. All comfort that the darke night can affoord,
Rich. Be to thy Person, Noble Father in Law.
Rich. Tell me, how fares our Noble Mother?
Der. I by Attourney, blesse thee from thy Mother,
Der. Who prayes continually for Richmonds good:
Der. So much for that. The silent houres steale on,
Der. And flakie darkenesse breakes within the East.
Der. In breefe, for so the season bids vs be,
Der. Prepare thy Battell early in the Morning,
Der. And put thy Fortune to th'Arbitrement
Der. Of bloody stroakes, and mortall staring Warre:
Der. I, as I may, that which I would, I cannot,
Der. With best aduantage will deceiue the time,
Der. And ayde thee in this doubtfull shocke of Armes.
Der. But on thy side I may not be too forward,