Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
King. King.
King. 'Tis seldome, when the Bee doth leaue her Combe
King. In the dead Carrion.
King. Enter Westmerland.
King. Who's heere? Westmerland?
West. West.
West. Health to my Soueraigne, and new happinesse
West. Added to that, that I am to deliuer.
West. Prince Iohn, your Sonne, doth kisse your Graces Hand:
West. Mowbray, the Bishop, Scroope, Hastings, and all,
West. Are brought to the Correction of your Law.
West. There is not now a Rebels Sword vnsheath'd,
West. But Peace puts forth her Oliue every where:
West. The manner how this Action hath beene borne,
West. Here (at more leysure) may your Highnesse reade,
West. With every course, in his particular.
King. O Westmerland, thou art a Summer Bird,
King. Which euer in the haunch of Winter sings
King. The listing vp of day.