Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Chorus. Nor doth he dedicate one iot of Colour
Chorus. Vnto the wearie and all-watched Night:
Chorus. But freshly lookes, and ouer-beares Attaint,
Chorus. With chearefull semblance, and sweet Maiestie:
Chorus. That euery Wretch, pining and pale before,
Chorus. Beholding him, plucks comfort from his Lookes.
Chorus. A Largesse vniuersall, like the Sunne,
Chorus. His liberall Eye doth giue to euery one,
Chorus. Thawing cold feare, that meane and gentle all
Chorus. Behold, as may vnworthinesse define.
Chorus. A little touch of Harry in the Night,
Chorus. And so our Scene must to the Battaile flye:
Chorus. Where, O for pitty, we shall much disgrace,
Chorus. With foure or fiue most vile and ragged foyles,
Chorus. (Right ill dispos'd, in brawle ridiculous)
Chorus. The Name of Agincourt: Yet sit and see,
Chorus. Minding true things, by what their Mock'ries bee.
Chorus. Exit.
Chorus. [Act 4, Scene 1]
Chorus. Enter the King, Bedford, and Gloucester.