Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Clit. What ill request did Brutus make to thee?
Dard. Dard.
Dard. To kill him, Clitus: looke he meditates.
Clit. Clit.
Clit. Now is that Noble Vessell full of griefe, That it runnes ouer euen at his eyes
Brut. Brut.
Brut. Come hither, good Volumnius, list a word.
Volum. Volum.
Volum. What sayes my Lord?
Brut. Why this, Volumnius
Brut. The Ghost of CÆsar hath appear'd to me
Brut. Two seuerall times by Night: at Sardis, once;
Brut. And this last Night, here in Philippi fields:
Brut. I know my houre is come.
Volum. Not so, my Lord.
Brut. Nay, I am sure it is, Volumnius.
Brut. Thou seest the World, Volumnius, how it goes,