Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Peto. And there are twentie weake and wearied Postes,
Peto. Come from the North: and as I came along,
Peto. I met, and ouer‑tooke a dozen Captaines,
Peto. Bare‑headed, sweating, knocking at the Tauernes,
Peto. And asking euery one for Sir Iohn Falstaffe.
Prince. Prince.
Prince. By Heauen (Poines) I feele me much to blame,
Prince. So idly to prophane the precious time,
Prince. When Tempest of Commotion, like the South,
Prince. Borne with black Vapour, doth begin to melt.
Prince. And drop vpon our bare vnarmed heads.
Prince. Giue me my Sword, and Cloake:
Prince. Falstaffe, good night.
Prince. Exit.
Falst. Falst.
Falst. Now comes in the sweetest Morsell of the
Falst. night, and wee must hence, and leaue it vnpickt. More
Falst. knocking at the doore? How now? what's the mat
Falst. ter?
Bard. Bard.