Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Q. M. But repetition of what thou hast marr'd,
Q. M. That will I make, before I let thee goe.
Rich. Rich.
Rich. Wert thou not banished, on paine of death?
Q. M. Q. M.
Q. M. I was: but I doe find more paine in banishment,
Q. M. Then death can yeeld me here, by my abode.
Q. M. A Husband and a Sonne thou ow'st to me,
Q. M. And thou a Kingdome; all of you, allegeance:
Q. M. This Sorrow that I haue, right is yours,
Q. M. And all the Pleasures you rpe, are mine.
Rich. The Curse my le Father layd on thee,
Rich. When thou didst Crown his Warlike Brows with Paper,
Rich. And with thy scornes drew'st Riuers from his eyes,
Rich. And then to dry the, gau'st the Duke a Clowt,
Rich. Steep'd in the faulte blood of prettie Rutland:
Rich. His Curses then, from bitternesse of Soule,
Rich. Denounc'd against thee, are all falne vpon thee:
Rich. And God, not we, hath plagu'd thy bloody deed.