Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
King. Giue me a Kalender: Who saw the Sunne to day?
Rat. Rat.
Rat. Nt I my Lord.
King. King.
King. Then he disdaines to shine: for by the Booke
King. He should haue brau'd the East an houre ago,
King. A blacke day will it be to somebody. Ratcliffe.
Rat. My Lord.
King. The Sun will not be seene to day,
King. The sky doth frowne, and lowre vpon our Army.
King. I would these dewy teares were from the ground.
King. Not shine to day? Why, what is that to me
King. More then to Richmond? For the selfe‑same Heauen
King. That frownes on me, lookes sadly vpon him.
King. Enter Norfolke.
Nor. Nor.
Nor. Arme, arme, my Lord: the foe vaunts in the field.