Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Hen. Hen.
Hen. Was euer King so greeu'd for Subiects woe?
Hen. Much is your sorrow; Mine, ten times so much.
Son. Son.
Son. Ile beare thee hence, where I may weepe my fill.
Fath. Fath.
Fath. These armes of mine shall be thy winding sheet:
Fath. My heart (sweet Boy) shall be thy Sepulcher,
Fath. For from my heart, thine Image ne're shall go.
Fath. My sighing brest, shall be thy Funerall bell;
Fath. And so obsequious will thy Father be,
Fath. Men for the losse of thee, hauing no more,
Fath. As Priam was for all his Valiant Sonnes,
Fath. Ile beare thee hence, and let them fight that will,
Fath. For I haue murthered where I should not kill.
Fath. Exit
Hen. Sad‑hearted‑men, much ouergone with Care;
Hen. Heere sits a King, more wofull then you are.
Hen. Alarums. Excursions. Enter the Queen, the