Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Gon. If she sustaine him, and his hundred Knights
Gon. When I haue shew'd th'vnfitnesse.
Gon. Enter Steward.
Gon. How now Oswald?
Gon. What haue you writ that Letter to my Sister?
Stew. Stew.
Stew. I Madam.
Gon. Gon.
Gon. Take you some company, and away to horse,
Gon. Informe her full of my particular feare,
Gon. And thereto adde such reasons of your owne,
Gon. As may compact it more. Get you gone,
Gon. And
Gon. The Tragedie of King Lear.
Gon. And hasten your returne; no, no, my Lord,
Gon. This milky gentlenesse, and course of yours
Gon. Though I condemne not, yet vnder pardon
Gon. You are much more at task for want of wisedome,
Gon. Then prais'd for harmefull mildnesse.
Alb. Alb.