Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Fra. England thou hast not sau'd one drop of blood
Fra. In this hot triall more then we of France,
Fra. Rather lost more. And by this hand I sweare
Fra. That swayes the earth this Climate ouer‑lookes,
Fra. Before we will lay downe our iust‑borne Armes,
Fra. Wee'l put thee downe, 'gainst whom these Armes wee beare,
Fra. Or adde a royall number to the dead:
Fra. Gracing the scroule that tels of this warres losse,
Fra. With slaughter coupled to the name of kings.
Bast. Bast.
Bast. Ha Maiesty: how high thy glory towres,
Bast. When the rich blood of kings is set on fire:
Bast. Oh now doth death line his dead chaps with steele,
Bast. The swords of souldiers are his teeth, his phangs,
Bast. And now he feasts, mousing the flesh of men
Bast. In vndetermin'd differences of kings.
Bast. Why stand these royall fronts amazed thus:
Bast. Cry hauocke kings, backe to the stained field
Bast. You equall Potents, fierie kindled spirits,
Bast. Then let confusion of one part confirm