Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Bast. By East and West let France and England mount.
Bast. Their battering Canon charged to the mouthes,
Bast. Till their soule‑fearing clamours haue braul'd downe
Bast. The flintie ribbes of this contemptuous Citie,
Bast. I'de play incessantly vpon these Iades,
Bast. Euen till vnfenced desolation
Bast. Leaue them as naked as the vulgar ayre:
Bast. That done, disseuer your vnited strengths,
Bast. And part your mingled colours once againe,
Bast. Turne face to face, and bloody point to point:
Bast. Then in a moment Fortune shall cull forth
Bast. Out of one side her happy Minion,
Bast. And kisse him with a glorious victory:
Bast. How like you this wilde counsell mighty States,
Bast. Smackes it not something of the policie.
Iohn. Iohn.
Iohn. Now by the sky that hangs aboue our heads,
Iohn. I like it well. France, shall we knit our powres,
Iohn. And lay this Angiers euen with the ground,
Iohn. Then after fight who shall be king of it?