Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Alc. In the last Conflict, and made plenteous wounds?
2 2
2 He has made too much plenty with him:
2 He's a sworne Riotor, he has a sinne
2 That often drownes him, and takes his valour prisoner.
2 If there were no Foes, that were enough
2 To ouercome him. In that Beastly furie,
2 He has bin knowne to commit outrages,
2 And cherrish Factions. 'Tis inferr'd to vs,
2 His dayes are foule, and his drinke dangerous.
1 1
1 He dyes.
Alci. Alci.
Alci. Hard fate: he might haue dyed in warre.
Alci. My Lords, if not for any parts in him,
Alci. Though his right arme might purchase his owne time,
Alci. And be in debt to none: yet more to moue you,
Alci. Take my deserts to his, and ioyne 'em both.
Alci. And for I know, your reuerend Ages loue Security,
Alci. Ile pawne my Victories, all my Honour to you