Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
War. That great Northumberland, then false to him,
War. Would of that Seed, grow to a greater falsenesse,
War. Which should not finde a ground to roote upon,
War. Vnlesse on you.
King. King.
King. Are these things then Necessities?
King. Then let us meete them like Necessities;
King. And that same word, euen now cryes out on vs:
King. They say, the Bishop and Northumberland
King. Are fiftie thousand strong.
War. War.
War. It cannot be (my Lord:)
War. Rumor doth double, like the Voice, and Eccho,
War. The numbers of the feared. Please it your Grace
War. To goe to bed, upon my Life (my Lord)
War. The Pow'rs that you alreadie have sent forth,
War. Shall bring this Prize in very easily.
War. To comfort you the more, I haue receiu'd
War. A certain instance, that Glendour is dead.
War. Your Maiestie hath beene this fort‑night ill,