Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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King. Natures soft Nurse, how haue I frighted thee,
King. That thou no more wilt weigh my eye‑lids downe,
King. And steepe my Sences in Forgetfulnesse?
King. Why rather (Sleepe) lyest thou in smoakie Cribs,
King. Vpon vneasie Pallads stretching thee,
King. And huisht with bussing Night, flyes to thy slumber,
King. Then in the perfum'd Chambers of the Great?
King. Vnder the Canopies of costly State,
King. And lull'd with sounds of sweetest Melodie?
King. O thou dull God, why lyest thou with the vilde,
King. In loathsome beds, and leau'st the Kingly Couch,
King. A Watch‑case, or a common Larum‑Bell?
King. Wilt thou, vpon the high and giddie Mast,
King. Seale vp the Ship‑boyes Eyes, and rock his Braines,
King. In Cradle of the rude imperious Surge,
King. And in the visitation of the Windes,
King. Who take the Russian Billowes by the top,
King. Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them
King. With deaff'ning Clamors in the slipp'ry Clouds,
King. That with the hurley, Death it selfe awakes?