Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Bul. The clogging burthen of a guilty soule.
Mow. Mow.
Mow. No Bullingbroke: If euer I were Traitor,
Mow. My name be blotted from the booke of Life,
Mow. And I from heauen banish'd, as from hence:
Mow. But what thou art, heauen, thou, and I do know,
Mow. And all too soone (I feare) the King shall rue.
Mow. Farewell (my Liege) now no way can I stray,
Mow. Saue backe to England, all the worlds my way.
Mow. Exit.
Rich. Rich.
Rich. Vncle, euen in the glasses of thine eyes
Rich. I see thy greeued heart: thy sad aspect,
Rich. Hath from the number of his banish'd yeares
Rich. Pluck'd foure away: Six frozen Winters spent,
Rich. Returne with welcome home, from banishment.
Bul. Bul.
Bul. How long a time lyes in one little word:
Bul. Foure lagging Winters, and foure wanton springs
Bul. End in a word, such is the breath of Kings.