Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Troy. How my atchieuements mocke me;
Troy. I will goe meete them: and my Lord Æneas
Troy. We met by chance; you did not finde me here.
Æn. Æn.
Æn. Good, good, my Lord, the secrets of nature
Æn. Haue not more gift in taciturnitie.
Æn. Exeunt.
Æn. Enter Pandarus and Cressid.
Pan. Pan.
Pan. Is't possible? no sooner got but lost: the diuell
Pan. take Anthenor; the yong Prince will goe mad: a plague
Pan. vpon Anthenor; I would they had brok's necke.
Cres. Cres.
Cres. How now? what's the matter? who was here?
Pan. Ah, ha!
Cres. Why sigh you so profoundly? wher's my Lord?
Cres. gone? tell me sweet Vnckle, what's the matter?