Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Mess. They set the same, and there it doth remaine,
Mess. The saddest spectacle that ere I view'd.
Edward. Edward.
Edward. Sweet Duke of Yorke, our Prop to leane vpon,
Edward. Now thou art gone, wee haue no Staffe, no Stay.
Edward. Oh Clifford, boyst'rous Clifford, thou hast slaine
Edward. The flowre of Europe, for his Cheualrie,
Edward. And trecherously hast thou vanquisht him,
Edward. For hand to hand he would haue vanquisht thee.
Edward. Now my Soules Pallace is become a Prison:
Edward. Ah, would she breake from hence, that this my body
Edward. Might
Edward. The third Part of King Henry the Sixt.
Edward. Might in the ground be closed vp in rest:
Edward. For neuer henceforth shall I ioy againe:
Edward. Neuer, oh neuer shall I see more ioy.
Rich. Rich.
Rich. I cannot weepe: for all my bodies moysture
Rich. Scarse serues to quench my Furnace‑burning hart:
Rich. Nor can my tongue vnloade my hearts great burthen,