Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Shep. Oh my heart.
Pol. Pol.
Pol. Ile haue thy beauty scratcht with briers & made
Pol. More homely then thy state. For thee (fond boy)
Pol. If I may euer know thou dost but sigh,
Pol. That thou no more shalt neuer see this knacke (as neuer
Pol. I meane thou shalt) wee’l barre thee from succession,
Pol. Not hold thee of our blood, no not our Kin,
Pol. Farre then Deucalion off: (marke thou my words)
Pol. Follow vs to the Court. Thou Churle, for this time
Pol. (Though full of our displeasure) yet we free thee
Pol. From the dead blow of it. And you Enchantment,
Pol. Wor.
Pol. The Winters Tale.
Pol. Worthy enough a Heardsman: yea him too,
Pol. That makes himselfe (but for our Honor therein)
Pol. Vnworthy thee. If euer henceforth, thou
Pol. These rurall Latches, to his entrance open,
Pol. Or hope his body more, with thy embraces,
Pol. I will deuise a death, as cruell for thee