Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Boy. Boy.
Boy. I cannot thinke it. Hearke, what noise is this?
Boy. Enter the Queene with her haire about her ears,
Boy. Riuers & Dorset after her.
Qu. Qu.
Qu. Ah! who shall hinder me to waile and weepe?
Qu. To chide my Fortune, and torment my Selfe.
Qu. Ile ioyne with blacke dispaire against my Soule,
Qu. And to my selfe, become an enemie.
Dut. Dut.
Dut. What meanes this Scene of rude impatience?
Qu. To make an act of Tragicke violence.
Qu. Edward my Lord, thy Sonne, our King is dead.
Qu. Why grow the Branches, when the Roote is gone?
Qu. Why wither not the leaues that want their sap?
Qu. If you will liue, Lament: if dye, be breefe,
Qu. That our swift‑winged Soules may catch the Kings,
Qu. Or like obedient Subiects follow him,
Qu. To his new Kingdome of nere‑changing night.