Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Mel. [Act 5, Scene 3]
Mel. Enter Dolphin, and his Traine.
Dol. Dol.
Dol. The Sun of heauen (me thought) was loth to set;
Dol. But staid, and made the Westerne Welkin blush,
Dol. When English measure backward their owne ground
Dol. In faint Retire: Oh brauely came we off,
Dol. When with a volley of our needlesse shot,
Dol. After such bloody toile, we bid good night,
Dol. And woon'd our tott'ring colours clearly vp,
Dol. Last in the field, and almost Lords of it.
Dol. Enter a Messenger.
Mes. Mes.
Mes. Where is my Prince, the Dolphin?
Dol. Heere: what newes?
Mes. The Count Meloone is slaine: The English Lords
Mes. By his perswasion, are againe falne off,
Mes. And your supply, which you haue wish'd so long,