Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Fa. Thou that so stoutly hath resisted me,
Fa. Giue me thy Gold, if thou hast any Gold:
Fa. For I haue bought it with an hundred blowes.
Fa. But let me see: Is this our Foe‑mans face?
Fa. Ah, no, no, no, it is mine onely Sonne.,
Fa. Ah Boy, if any life be left in thee,
Fa. Throw vp thine eye: see, see, what showres arise,
Fa. Blowne with the windie Tempest of my heart,
Fa. Vpon thy wounds, that killes mine Eye, and Heart.
Fa. O pitty God, this miserable Age!
Fa. What Stragems? how fell? how Butcherly?
Fa. Erreoneous, mutinous, and vnnaturall,
Fa. This deadly quarrell daily doth beget?
Fa. O Boy! thy Father gaue thee life too soone,
Fa. And hath bereft thee of thy life too late.
King. King.
King. Wo aboue wo: greefe, more thē them common greefe
King. O that my death would stay these ruthfull deeds:
King. O pitty, pitty, gentle heauen pitty:
King. The Red Rose and the White are on his face,