Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Bast. The life and death of King Iohn.
Bast. How easie dost thou take all England vp,
Bast. From forth this morcell of dead Royaltie?
Bast. The life, the right, and truth of all this Realme
Bast. Is fled to heauen: and England now is left
Bast. To tug and scamble, and to part by th'teeth
Bast. The vn‑owed interest of proud swelling State:
Bast. Now for the bare‑pickt bone of Maiesty,
Bast. Doth dogged warre bristle his angry crest,
Bast. And snarleth in the gentle eyes of peace:
Bast. Now Powers from home, and discontents at home
Bast. Meet in one line: and vast confusion waites
Bast. As doth a Rauen on a sicke‑falne beast,
Bast. The iminent decay of wrested pompe.
Bast. Now happy he, whose cloake and center can
Bast. Hold out this tempest. Beare away that childe,
Bast. And follow me with speed: Ile to the King:
Bast. A thousand businesses are briefe in hand,
Bast. And heauen it selfe doth frowne vpon the Land.
Bast. Exit.