Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Lu. She makes it strãgestrange, but she would be best pleas'd
Lu. To be so angred with another Letter.
Iu. Iu.
Iu. Nay, would I were so angred with the same:
Iu. Oh hatefull hands, to teare such louing words;
Iu. Iniurious Waspes, to feede on such sweet hony,
Iu. And kill the Bees that yeelde it, with your stings:
Iu. Ile kisse each seuerall paper, for amends:
Iu. Looke, here is writ, kinde Iulia: vnkinde Iulia,
Iu. As in reuenge of thy ingratitude,
Iu. I throw thy name against the bruzing-stones,
Iu. Trampling contemptuously on thy disdaine.
Iu. And here is writ, Loue wounded Protheus.
Iu. Poor wounded name: my bosome, as a bed,
Iu. Shall lodge thee till thy wound be throughly heal'd;
Iu. And thus I search it with a soueraigne kisse.
Iu. But twice, or thrice, was Protheus written downe:
Iu. Be calme (good winde) blow not a word away,
Iu. Till I haue found each letter, in the Letter,
Iu. Except mine own name: That, some whirle‑winde beare