Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Ti. The Seas a Theefe, whose liquid Surge, resolues
Ti. The Moone into Salt teares. The Earth's a Theefe,
Ti. That feeds and breeds by a composture stolne
Ti. From gen'rall excrement: each thing's a Theefe.
Ti. The Lawes, your curbe and whip, in their rough power
Ti. Ha's vncheck'd Theft. Loue not your selues, away,
Ti. Rob one another, there's more Gold, cut throates,
Ti. All that you meete are Theeues: to Athens go,
Ti. Breake open shoppes, nothing can you steale
Ti. But Theeues do loose it: steale lesse, for this I giue you,
Ti. And Gold confound you howsoere: Amen.
3 3
3 Has almost charm'd me from my Profession, by per
3 swading me to it.
1 1
1 'Tis in the malice of mankinde, that he thus aduises
1 vs not to haue vs thriue in our mystery.
2 2
2 Ile beleeue him as an Enemy,
2 And giue ouer my Trade.