Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Rich. Rich.
Rich. They do me wrong, and I will not indure it,
Rich. Who is it that complaines vnto the King,
Rich. TharThat I (forsooth) am sterne, and loue them not?
Rich. By holy Paul, they loue his Grace but lightly,
Rich. That fill his eares with such dissentious Rumors.
Rich. Because I cannot flatter, and looke faire,
Rich. Smile in mens faces, smooth, deceiue, and cogge,
Rich. Ducke with French nods, and Apish curtesie,
Rich. I must be held a rancorous Enemy.
Rich. Cannot a plaine man liue, and thinke no harme,
Rich. But thus his simple truth must be abus'd,
Rich. With silken, slye, insinuating Iackes?
Grey. Grey.
Grey. To who in all this presence speaks your Grace?
Rich. To thee, that hast nor Honesty, nor Grace:
Rich. When haue I iniur'd thee? When done thee wrong?
Rich. Or thee? or thee? or any of your Faction?
Rich. A plague vpon you all. His Royall Grace