Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Dut. Peace children peace, the King doth loue you wel.
Dut. Incapeable, and shallow Innocents,
Dut. You cannot guesse who caus'd your Fathers death.
Boy. Boy.
Boy. Grandam we can: for my good Vnkle Gloster
Boy. Told me, the King prouok'd to it by the Queene,
Boy. Deuis'd impeachments to imprison him;
Boy. And when my Vnckle told me so, he wept,
Boy. And pittied me, and kindly kist my cheeke:
Boy. Bad me rely on him, as on my Father,
Boy. And he would loue me deerely as a childe.
Dut. Dut.
Dut. Ah! that Deceit should steale such gentle shape,
Dut. And with a vertuous Vizor hide deepe vice.
Dut. He is my sonne, I, and therein my shame,
Dut. Yet from my dugges, he drew not this deceit.
Boy. Thinke you my Vnkle did dissemble Grandam?
Dut. I Boy.