Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Wor. Wor.
Wor. I prethee tell me, doth he keepe his Bed?
Mess. Mess.
Mess. He did, my Lord, foure dayes ere I set forth:
Mess. And at the time of my departure thence,
Mess. He was much fear'd by his Physician.
Wor. I would the state of time had first beene whole,
Wor. Ere he by sicknesse had beene visited:
Wor. His health was neuer better worth then now.
Hotsp. Hotsp.
Hotsp. Sicke now? droope now? this sicknes doth infect
Hotsp. The very Life‑blood of our Enterprise,
Hotsp. 'Tis catching hither, euen to our Campe.
Hotsp. He writes me here, that inward sicknesse,
Hotsp. And that his friends by deputation
Hotsp. Could not so soone be drawne: nor did he thinke it meet,
Hotsp. To lay so dangerous and deare a trust
Hotsp. On any Soule remou'd, but on his owne.
Hotsp. Yet doth he giue vs bold aduertisement,