Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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King. And is not like the sire: Honours thriue,
King. When rather from our acts we them deriue
King. Then our fore‑goers: the meere words, a slaue
King. Debosh'd on euerie tombe, on euerie graue:
King. A lying Trophee, and as oft is dumbe,
King. Where dust, and damn'd obliuion is the Tombe.
King. Of honour'd bones indeed, what should be saide?
King. If thou canst like this creature, as a maide,
King. I can create the rest: Vertue, and shee
King. Is her owne dower: Honour and wealth, from mee.
Ber. Ber.
Ber. I cannot loue her, nor will striue to doo't.
King. King.
King. Thou wrong'st thy selfe, if thou shold'st striue
King. to choose.
Hel. Hel.
Hel. That you are well restor'd my Lord, I'me glad:
Hel. Let the rest go.
King. My Honor's at the stake, which to defeate