Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Kin. I would not haue him know so much by me.
Bero. Bero.
Bero. Now step I forth to whip hypocrisie.
Bero. Ah good my Liedge, I pray thee pardon me.
Bero. Good heart, What grace hast thou thus to reproue
Bero. These wormes for louing, that art most in loue?
Bero. Your eyes doe make no couches in your teares.
Bero. There is no certaine Princesse that appeares.
Bero. You'll not be periur'd, 'tis a hatefull thing:
Bero. Tush, none but Minstrels like of Sonnetting.
Bero. But are you not asham'd? nay, are you not
Bero. M
Bero. All
Bero. Loues Labour's lost.
Bero. All three of you, to be thus much ore'shot?
Bero. You found his Moth, the King your Moth did see:
Bero. But I a Beame doe finde in each of three.
Bero. O what a Scene of fool'ry haue I seene.
Bero. Of sighes, of grones, of sorrow, and of teene:
Bero. O me, with what strict patience haue I sat,