Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Por. His wife, who wins me by that meanes I told you,
Por. Your selfe (renowned Prince) than stood as faire
Por. As any commer I haue look'd on yet
Por. For my affection.
Mor. Mor.
Mor. Euen for that I thanke you,
Mor. Therefore I pray you leade me to the Caskets
Mor. To trie my fortune: By this Symitare
Mor. That slew the Sophie, and a Persian Prince
Mor. That won three fields of Sultan Solyman,
Mor. I would ore‑stare the sternest eies that looke:
Mor. Out‑braue the heart most daring on the earth:
Mor. Plucke the yong sucking Cubs from the she Beare,
Mor. Yea, mocke the Lion when he rores for pray
Mor. To win the Ladie. But alas, the while
Mor. If Hercules and Lychas plaie at dice
Mor. Which is the better man, the greater throw
Mor. May turne by fortune from the weaker hand:
Mor. So is Alcides beaten by his rage,
Mor. And so may I, blinde fortune leading me