Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
King. Felt so much cold, as ouer shooes in Snow:
King. Let's whip these straglers o're the Seas againe,
King. Lash hence these ouer‑weening Ragges of France,
King. These famish'd Beggers, weary of their liues,
King. Who (but for dreaming on this fond exploit)
King. For want of meanes (poore Rats) shad hang'd themselues.
King. If we be conquered, let men conquer vs,
King. And not these bastard Britaines, whom our Fathers
King. Haue in their owne Land beaten, bobb'd, and thump'd,
King. And on Record, left them the heires of shame.
King. Shall these enioy our Lands? Lye with our Wiues?
King. Rauish our daughters?
King. Drum afarre off
King. Hearke, I heare their Drumme,
King. Right Gentlemen of England, fight boldly yeomen,
King. Draw Archers draw your Arrowes to the head,
King. Spurre your proud Horses hard, and ride in blood,
King. Amaze the welkin with your broken staues.
King. Enter a Messenger.
King. What sayes Lord Stanley, will he bring his power?