Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Lou. In the great'st humblenesse, and desir'd your Highnesse
Lou. Most heartily to pray for her.
King. King.
King. What say'st thou? Ha?
King. To pray for her? What, is she crying out?
Lou. Lou.
Lou. So said her woman, and that her suffrance made
Lou. Almost each pang, a death.
King. Alas good Lady.
Suf. Suf.
Suf. God safely quit her of her Burthen, and
Suf. With gentle Trauaile, to the gladding of
Suf. Your Highnesse with an Heire.
King. 'Tis midnight Charles,
King. Prythee to bed, and in thy Prayres remember
King. Th'estate of my poore Queene. Leaue me alone,
King. For I must thinke of that, which company
King. Would not be friendly too.