Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
West. Whose white Inuestments figure Innocence,
West. The Doue, and very blessed Spirit of Peace.
West. Wherefore doe you so ill translate your selfe,
West. Out of the Speech of Peace, that beares such grace,
West. Into the harsh and boystrous Tongue of Warre?
West. Turning your Bookes to Graues, your Inke to Blood,
West. Your Pennes to Launces, and your Tongue diuine
West. To a lowd Trumpet, and a Point of Warre.
Bish. Bish.
Bish. Wherefore doe I this? so the Question stands.
Bish. Briefely to this end: Wee are all diseas'd,
Bish. And with our surfetting and wanton howres,
Bish. Haue brought our selues into a burning Feuer,
Bish. And wee must bleede for it: of which Disease,
Bish. Our late King Richard (being infected) dy'd.
Bish. But (my most Noble Lord of Westmerland)
Bish. I take not on me here as a Physician,
Bish. Nor doe I, as an Enemie to Peace,
Bish. Troope in the Throngs of Militarie men:
Bish. But rather shew a while like fearefull Warre,