Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Ophe. The glasse of Fashion, and the mould of Forme,
Ophe. Th'obseru'd of all Obseruers, quite, quite downe.
Ophe. Haue I of Ladies most deiect and wretched,
Ophe. That suck'd the Honie of his Musicke Vowes:
Ophe. Now see that Noble, and most Soueraigne Reason,
Ophe. Like sweet Bels iangled out of tune, and harsh,
Ophe. That vnmatch'd Forme and Feature of blowne youth,
Ophe. Blasted with extasie. Oh, woe is me,
Ophe. T'haue seene what I haue seene: see what I see.
Ophe. Enter King, and Polonius.
King. King.
King. Loue? His affections do not that way tend,
King. Nor what he spake, though it lack'd Forme a little,
King. Was not like Madnesse. There's something in his soule?
King. O're which his Melancholly sits on brood,
King. And I do doubt the hatch, and the disclose
King. Will be some danger, which to preuent
King. I haue in quicke determination
King. Thus set it downe. He shall with speed to England
King. For the demand of our neglected Tribute: