Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Ra. Ra.
Ra. Come, come, dispatch, the Duke would be at dinner:
Ra. Make a short Shrift, he longs to see your Head.
Hast. Hast.
Hast. O momentarie grace of mortall men,
Hast. Which we more hunt for, then the grace of God!
Hast. Who builds his hope in ayre of your good Lookes,
Hast. Liues like a drunken Sayler on a Mast,
Hast. Readie with euery Nod to tumble downe,
Hast. Into the fatall Bowels of the Deepe.
Lou. Lou.
Lou. Come, come, dispatch, 'tis bootlesse to exclaime.
Hast. O bloody Richard: miserable England,
Hast. I prophecie the fearefull'st time to thee,
Hast. That euer wretched Age hath look'd vpon.
Hast. Come, lead me to the Block, beare him my Head,
Hast. They smile at me, who shortly shall be dead.
Hast. Exeunt.
Hast. s