Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Nor. And so wee'l leaue you to your Meditations
Nor. How to liue better. For your stubborne answer
Nor. About the giuing backe the Great Seale to vs,
Nor. The King shall know it, and (no doubt) shal thanke you.
Nor. So fare you well, my little good Lord Cardinall.
Nor. Exeunt all but Wolsey.
Wol. Wol.
Wol. So farewell, to the little good you beare me.
Wol. Farewell? A long farewell to all my Greatnesse.
Wol. This is the state of Man; to day he puts forth
Wol. The tender Leaues of hopes, to morrow Blossomes,
Wol. And beares his blushing Honors thicke vpon him:
Wol. The third day, comes a Frost; a killing Frost,
Wol. And when he thinkes, good easie man, full surely
Wol. His
Wol. The Life of King Henry the Eight.
Wol. His Greatnesse is a ripening, nippes his roote,
Wol. And then he fals as I do. I haue ventur'd
Wol. Like little wanton Boyes that swim on bladders:
Wol. This many Summers in a Sea of Glory,