Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Hot. I then, all‑smarting, with my wounds being cold,
Hot. (To be so pestered with a Popingay)
Hot. Out of my Greefe, and my Impatience,
Hot. Answer'd (neglectingly)I know not what,
Hot. He should, or should not: For he made me mad,
Hot. To see him shine so briske, and smell so sweet,
Hot. And talke so like a Waiting‑Gentlewoman,
Hot. Of Guns, & Drums, and Wounds: God saue the marke;
Hot. And telling me, the Soueraign'st thing on earth
Hot. Was Parmacity, for an inward bruise:
Hot. And that it was great pitty, so it was,
Hot. That villanous Salt‑peter should be digg'd
Hot. Out of the Bowels of the harmlesse Earth,
Hot. Which many a good Tall Fellow had destroy'd
Hot. So Cowardly. And but for these vile Gunnes,
Hot. He would himselfe haue beene a Souldier.
Hot. This bald, vnioynted Chat of his (my Lord)
Hot. Made me to answer indirectly (as I said.)
Hot. And I beseech you, let not this report
Hot. Come currant for an Accusation,