Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Rich. Nay, wherefore should they? Since that I my Selfe,
Rich. Finde in my Selfe, no pittie to my Selfe.
Rich. Me thought, the Soules of all that I had murther'd
Rich. Came to my Tent, and euery one did threat
Rich. To morrowes vengeance on the head of Richard.
Rich. Enter Ratcliffe.
Rat. Rat.
Rat. My Lord.
King. King.
King. Who's there?
Rat. Ratcliffe my Lord, 'tis I: the early Village Cock
Rat. Hath twice done salutation to the Morne,
Rat. Your Friends are vp, and buckle on their Armour.
King. O Ratcliffe, I feare, I feare.
Rat. Nay good my Lord, be not affraid of Shadows.
King. By the Apostle Paul, shadowes to night