Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Rich. Enter Scroope.
Scroope. Scroope.
Scroope. More health and happinesse betide my Liege,
Scroope. Then can my care‑tun'd tongue deliuer him.
Rich. Rich.
Rich. Mine eare is open, and my heart prepar'd:
Rich. The worst is worldly losse, thou canst vnfold:
Rich. Say, Is my Kingdome lost? Why 'twas my Care:
Rich. And what losse is it to be rid of Care?
Rich. Striues Bullingbrooke to be as Great as wee?
Rich. Greater he shall not be: If hee serue God,
Rich. Wee'l serue him too, and be his Fellow so.
Rich. Reuolt our Subiects? That we cannot mend,
Rich. They breake their Faith to God, as well as vs:
Rich. Cry Woe, Destruction, Ruine, Losse, Decay,
Rich. The worst is Death, and Death will haue his day.
Scroope. Glad am I, that your Highnesse is so arm'd
Scroope. To beare the tidings of Calamitie.
Scroope. Like an vnseasonable stormie day,