Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Wol. You wrong the Kings loue with these feares,
Wol. Your hopes and friends are infinite.
Queen. Queen.
Queen. In England,
Queen. But little for my profit can you thinke Lords,
Queen. That any English man dare giue me Councell?
Queen. Or be a knowne friend 'gainst his Highnes pleasure,
Queen. (Though he be growne so desperate to be honest)
Queen. And liue a Subiect? Nay forsooth, my Friends,
Queen. They that must weigh out my affllictions,
Queen. They that my trust must grow to, liue not heere,
Queen. They are (as all my other comforts) far hence
Queen. In mine owne Countrey Lords.
Camp. Camp.
Camp. I would your Grace
Camp. Would leaue your greefes, and take my Counsell.
Queen. How Sir?
Camp. Put your maine cause into the Kings protection,