Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Bul. A deede of Slaughter, with thy fatall hand,
Bul. Vpon my head, and all this famous Land.
Ex. Ex.
Ex. From your owne mouth my Lord, did I this deed.
Bul. Bul.
Bul. They loue not poyson, that do poyson neede,
Bul. Nor do I thee: though I did wish him dead,
Bul. I hate the Murtherer, loue him murthered.
Bul. The guilt of conscience take thou for thy labour,
Bul. But neither my good word, nor Princely fauour.
Bul. With Caine go wander through the shade of night,
Bul. And neuer shew thy head by day, nor light.
Bul. Lords, I protest my soule is full of woe,
Bul. That blood should sprinkle me, to make me grow.
Bul. Come mourne with me, for that I do lament,
Bul. And put on sullen Blacke incontinent:
Bul. Ile make a voyage to the Holy‑land,
Bul. to wash this blood off from my guilty hand.
Bul. March sadly after, grace my mourning heere,
Bul. In weeping after this vntimely Beere.