Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Nor. Nay nothing, all is said:
Nor. His tongue is now a stringlesse instrument,
Nor. Words, life, and all, old Lancaster hath spent.
Yor. Yor.
Yor. Be Yorke the next, that must be bankrupt so,
Yor. Though death be poore, it ends a mortall wo.
Rich. Rich.
Rich. The ripest fruit first fals, and so doth he,
Rich. His time is spent, our pilgrimage must be:
Rich. So much for that. Now for our Irish warres,
Rich. We must supplant those rough rug‑headed Kernes,
Rich. Which liue like venom, where no venom else
Rich. But onely they, haue priuiledge to liue.
Rich. And for these great affayres do aske some charge
Rich. Towards our assistance, we do seize to vs
Rich. The plate, coine, reuennewes, and moueables,
Rich. Whereof our Vncle Gaunt did stand possest.
Yor. How long shall I be patient? Oh how long
Yor. Shall tender dutie make me suffer wrong?