Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Rich. Nay, if I turne mine Eyes vpon my selfe,
Rich. I finde my selfe a Traytor with the rest:
Rich. For I haue giuen here my Soules consent,
Rich. T'vndeck the pompous Body of a King;
Rich. Made Glory base; a Soueraigntie, a Slaue;
Rich. Prowd Maiestie, a Subiect; State, a Pesant.
North. North.
North. My Lord.
Rich. Rich.
Rich. No Lord of thine, thou haught‑insulting man;
Rich. No, nor no mans Lord: I haue no Name, no Title;
Rich. No, not that Name was giuen me at the Font,
Rich. But 'tis vsurpt: alack the heauie day,
Rich. That I haue worne so many Winters out,
Rich. And know not now, what Name to call my selfe.
Rich. Oh, that I were a Mockerie, King of Snow,
Rich. Standing before the Sunne of Bullingbrooke,
Rich. To melt my selfe away in Water‑drops.
Rich. Good King, great King, and yet not greatly good,
Rich. And if my word be Sterling yet in England,