Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Laer. Stood Challenger on mount of all the Age
Laer. For her perfections. But my reuenge will come.
King. King.
King. Breake not your sleepes for that,
King. You must not thinke
King. That we are made of stuffe, so flat, and dull,
King. That we can let our Beard be shooke with danger,
King. And thinke it pastime. You shortly shall heare more,
King. I lou'd your Father, and we loue our Selfe,
King. And that I hope will teach you to imagine⸺
King. Enter a Messenger.
King. How now? What Newes?
Mes. Mes.
Mes. Letters my Lord from Hamlet. This to your
Mes. Maiesty: this to the Queene.
King. From Hamlet? Who brought them?
Mes. Saylors my Lord they say, I saw them not:
Mes. They were giuen me by Claudio, he receiu'd them.