Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Yor. Giue me my Boots, I say.
Dut. Dut.
Dut. Why Yorke, what wilt thou do?
Dut. Wilt thou not hide the Trespasse of thine owne?
Dut. Haue we more Sonnes? Or are we like to haue?
Dut. Is not my teeming date drunke vp with time?
Dut. And wilt thou plucke my faire Sonne from mine Age,
Dut. And rob me of a happy Mothers name?
Dut. Is he not like thee? Is he not thine owne?
Yor. Yor.
Yor. Thou fond mad woman:
Yor. Wilt thou conceale this darke Conspiracy?
Yor. A dozen of them heere haue tane the Sacrament,
Yor. And interchangeably set downe their hands
Yor. To kill the King at Oxford.
Dut. He shall be none:
Dut. Wee'l keepe him heere: then what is that to him?
Yor. Away fond woman: were hee twenty times my