Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Son. Whom in this Conflict, I (vnwares) have kill'd:
Son. Oh heauy times! begetting such Euents.
Son. From London, by the King was I prest forth,
Son. My Father being the Earle of Warwickes man,
Son. Came on the part of Yorke, prest by his Master;
Son. And I, who at his hands receiu'd my life,
Son. Haue by my hands, of Life bereaued him.
Son. Pardon me God, I knew not what I did:
Son. And pardon Father, for I knew not thee.
Son. My Teares shall wipe away these bloody markes:
Son. And no more words, till they haue flow'd their fill.
King. King.
King. O pitteous spectacle! O bloody Times!
King. Whiles Lyons Warre, and battaile for their Dennes,
King. Poore harmlesse Lambes abide their enmity.
King. Weepe wretched man: Ile ayde thee Teare for Teare,
King. And let our hearts and eyes, like Ciuill Warre,
King. Be blinde with teares, and break ore‑charged with griefe
King. Enter Father, bearing of his Sonne.
Fa. Fa.