Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Qu. A holy day shall this be kept heereafter:
Qu. I would to God all strifes were well compounded.
Qu. My Soueraigne Lord, I do beseech your Highnesse
Qu. To take our Brother Clarence to your Grace.
Rich Rich
Rich Why Madam, haue I offred loue for this,
Rich To be so flowted in this Royall presence?
Rich Who knowes not that the gentle Duke is dead?
Rich You do him iniurie to scorne his Coarse.
Rich They
Rich all start.
King. King.
King. Who knowes not he is dead?
King. Who knowes he is?
Qu. Qu.
Qu. All‑seeing heauen, what a world is this?
Buc. Buc.
Buc. Looke I so pale Lord Dorset, as the rest?
Dor. Dor.
Dor. I my good Lord, and no man in the presence,