Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Sal. Murther, as hating what himselfe hath done,
Sal. Doth lay it open to vrge on reuenge.
Big. Big.
Big. Or when he doom'd this Beautie to graue,
Big. Found it too precious Princely, for a graue.
Sal. Sal.
Sal. Sir Richard, what thinke you? you haue beheld,
Sal. Or haue you read, or heard, or could you thinke?
Sal. Or do you almost thinke, although you see,
Sal. That you do see? Could thought, without this obiect
Sal. Forme such another? This is the very top,
Sal. The heighth, the Crest: or Crest vnto the Crest
Sal. Of murthers Armes: This is the bloodiest shame,
Sal. The wildest Sauagery, the vildest stroke
Sal. That euer wall‑ey'd wrath, or staring rage
Sal. Presented to the teares of soft remorse.
Pem. Pem.
Pem. All murthers past, do stand excus'd in this:
Pem. And this so sole, and so vnmatcheable,
Pem. Shall giue a holinesse, a puritie,