Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
E. Mar. Sir, I commend you to your owne content.
E. Mar. Exeunt.
Ant. Ant.
Ant. He that commends me to mine owne content,
Ant. Commends me to the thing I cannot get:
Ant. I to the world am like a drop of water,
Ant. That in the Ocean seekes another drop,
Ant. Who falling there to finde his fellow forth,
Ant. (Vnseene, inquisitiue) confounds himselfe.
Ant. So I, to finde a Mother and a Brother,
Ant. In quest of them (vnhappie a) loose my selfe.
Ant. Enter Dromio of Ephesus.
Ant. Here comes the almanacke of my true date:
Ant. What now? How chance thou art return'd so soone.
E. Dro. E. Dro.
E. Dro. Return'd so soone, rather approacht too late:
E. Dro. The Capon burnes, the Pig fals from the spit;
E. Dro. The clocke hath strucken twelue vpon the bell:
E. Dro. My Mistris made it one vpon my cheeke:
E. Dro. She is so hot because the meate is colde: