Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Iohn. And merciles proceeding, by these French.
Iohn. Comfort yours Citties eies, your winking gates:
Iohn. And but for our approach, those sleeping stones,
Iohn. That as a waste doth girdle you about
Iohn. By the compulsion of their Ordinance,
Iohn. By this time from their fixed beds of lime
Iohn. Had bin dishabited, and wide hauocke made
Iohn. For bloody power to rush vppon your peace.
Iohn. But on the sight of vs your lawfull King,
Iohn. Who painefully with much expedient march
Iohn. Haue brought a counter‑checke before your gates,
Iohn. To saue vnscratch'd your Citties threatned cheekes:
Iohn. Behold the French amaz'd vouchsafe a parle,
Iohn. And now insteed of bulletts wrapt in fire
Iohn. To make a shaking feuer in your walles,
Iohn. They shoote but calme words, folded vp in smoake,
Iohn. To make a faithlesse errour in your eares,
Iohn. Which trust accordingly kinde Cittizens,
Iohn. And let vs in. Your King, whose labour'd spirits
Iohn. Fore‑wearied in this action of swift speede,