Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
King. I prythee giue no limits to my Tongue,
King. I am a King, and priuiledg'd to speake.
Clif. Clif.
Clif. My Liege, the Wound that bred this meeting here,
Clif. Cannot be cur'd by Words, therefore be still.
Rich. Rich.
Rich. Then Executioner vnsheath thy sword:
Rich. By him that made vs all, I am resolu'd,
Rich. That Cliffords Manhood, lyes vpon his tongue.
Ed. Ed.
Ed. Say Henry, shall I haue my right, or no:
Ed. A thousand men haue broke their Fasts to day,
Ed. That ne're shall dine, vnlesse thou yeeld the Crowne.
War. War.
War. If thou deny, their Blood vpon thy head,
War. For Yorke in iustice put's his Armour on.
Pr. Ed. Pr. Ed.
Pr. Ed. If that be right, which Warwick saies is right,
Pr. Ed. There is no vvrong, but euery thing is right.