Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Yorke. A Bird, that will reuenge vpon you all:
Yorke. And in that hope, I throw mine eyes to Heauen,
Yorke. Scorning what ere you can afflict me with.
Yorke. Why come you not? what, multitudes, and feare?
Cliff. Cliff.
Cliff. So Cowards fight, when they can flye no further,
Cliff. So Doues doe peck the Faulcons piercing Tallons,
Cliff. So desperate Theeues, all hopelesse of their Liues,
Cliff. Breathe out Inuectiues 'gainst the Officers.
Yorke. Yorke.
Yorke. Oh Clifford, but bethinke thee once againe,
Yorke. And in thy thought ore‑run my former time:
Yorke. And if thou canst, for blushing, view this face,
Yorke. And bite thy tongue, that slanders him with Cowardice,
Yorke. Whose frowne hath made thee faint and flye ere this.
Clifford. Clifford.
Clifford. I will not bandie with thee word for word,
Clifford. But buckler with thee blowes twice two for one.
Queene. Queene.
Queene. Hold valiant Clifford, for a thousand causes