Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Hen. I am the Symet to this pale faint Swan,
Hen. Who chaunts a dolefull hymne to his owne death,
Hen. And from the organ‑pipe of frailety sings
Hen. His soule and body to their lasting rest.
Sal. Sal.
Sal. Be of good comfort (Prince) for you are borne
Sal. To set a forme vpon that indigest
Sal. Which he hath left so shapelesse, and so rude.
Sal. Iohn brought in.
Iohn. Iohn.
Iohn. I marrie, now my soule hath elbow roome,
Iohn. It
Iohn. The life and death of King Iohn.
Iohn. It would not out at windowes, nor at doores,
Iohn. There is so hot a summer in my bosome,
Iohn. That all my bowels crumble vp to dust:
Iohn. I am a scribled forme drawne with a pen
Iohn. Vpon a Parchment, and against this fire
Iohn. Do I shrinke vp.
Hen. Hen.