Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
King. Where is the Crowne? who tooke it from my
King. Pillow?
War. War.
War. When wee with‑drew (my Liege) wee left it
War. heere.
King. King.
King. The Prince hath ta'ne it hence;
King. Goe seeke him out.
King. Is hee so hastie, that hee doth suppose
King. My sleepe, my death? finde him (my Lord of Warwick)
King. Chide him hither: this part of his conioynes
King. With my disease, and helpes to end me.
King. See Sonnes, what things you are;
King. How quickly Nature falls into reuolt,
King. When Gold becomes her Object?
King. For this, the foolish ouer‑carefull Fathers
King. Haue broke their sleepes with thoughts,
King. Their braines with care, their bones with industry.
King. For this, they, haue ingrossed and pyl'd vp
King. The canker'd heapes of strange‑atchieued Gold: