Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Prince. Resigne thy Chayre, and where I stand, kneele thou,
Prince. Whil'st I propose the selfe‑same words to thee,
Prince. Which (Traytor) thou would'st haue me answer to.
Qu. Qu.
Qu. Ah, that thy Father had beene so resolu'd.
Rich. Rich.
Rich. That you might still haue worne the Petticoat,
Rich. And ne're haue stolne the Breech from Lancaster.
Prince. Prince.
Prince. Let Æsop fable in a Winters Night,
Prince. His Currish Riddles sorts not with this place.
Rich. By Heauen, Brat, Ile plague ye for that word.
Qu. I, thou wast borne to be a plague to men.
Rich. For Gods sake, take away this Captiue Scold.
Prince. Nay, take away this scolding Crooke‑backe,
Prince. rather.