Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Rich. But the plaine Diuell, and dissembling lookes?
Rich. And yet to winne her? All the world to nothing.
Rich. Hah!
Rich. Hath she forgot alreadie that braue Prince,
Rich. Edward, her Lord, whom I (some three monthes since)
Rich. Stab'd in my angry mood, at Tewkesbury?
Rich. A sweeter, and a louelier Gentleman,
Rich. Fram'd in the prodigallity of Nature:
Rich. Yong, Valiant, Wise, and (no doubt) right Royal,
Rich. The spacious World cannot againe affoord:
Rich. And will she yet abase her eyes on me,
Rich. That cropt the Golden prime of this sweet Prince,
Rich. And made her Widdow to a wofull Bed?
Rich. On me, whose All not equals Edwards Moytie?
Rich. On me, that halts, and am mishapen thus?
Rich. My Dukedome, to a Beggerly denier!
Rich. I do mistake my person all this while:
Rich. Vpon my life she findes (although I cannot)
Rich. My selfe to be a maru'llous proper man.
Rich. Ile be at Charges for a Looking‑glasse,