Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Queen. Ye speake like honest men, (pray God ye proue so)
Queen. But how to make ye sodainly an Answere
Queen. In such a poynt of weight, so neere mine Honour,
Queen. (More neere my Life I feare) with my weake wit;
Queen. And to such men of grauity and learning;
Queen. In truth I know not. I was set at worke,
Queen. Among my Maids, full little (God knowes) looking
Queen. Either for such men, or such businesse;
Queen. For her sake that I haue beene, for I feele
Queen. The last fit of my Greatnesse; good your Graces
Queen. Let me haue time and Councell for my Cause:
Queen. Alas, I am a Woman frendlesse, hopelesse.
Wol. Wol.
Wol. Madam,
Wol. You wrong the Kings loue with these feares,
Wol. Your hopes and friends are infinite.
Queen. Queen.
Queen. In England,
Queen. But little for my profit can you thinke Lords,
Queen. That any English man dare giue me Councell?