Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Sur. You writ to'th'Pope, against the King: your goodnesse
Sur. Since you prouoke me, shail be most notorious.
Sur. My Lord of Norfolke, as you are truly Noble,
Sur. As you respect the common good, the State
Sur. Of our despis'd Nobilitie, our Issues,
Sur. (Whom if he liue, will scarse be Gentlemen)
Sur. Produce the grand summe of his sinnes, the Articles
Sur. Collected from his life. Ile startle you
Sur. Worse then the Sacring Bell, when the browne Wench
Sur. Lay kissing in your Armes, Lord Cardinall.
Car. Car.
Car. How much me thinkes, I could despise this man,
Car. But that I am bound in Charitie against it.
Nor. Nor.
Nor. Those Articles, my Lord, are in the Kings hand:
Nor. But thus much, they are foule ones.
Wol. Wol.
Wol. So much fairer
Wol. And spotlesse, shall mine Innocence arise,
Wol. When the King knowes my Truth.