Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Por. Please it your Honour, knocke but at the Gate,
Por. And he himselfe will answer.
Por. Enter Northumberland.
L. Bar. L. Bar.
L. Bar. Here comes the Earle.
Nor. Nor.
Nor. What news, Lord Bardolfe? Every minute now
Nor. Should be the Father of some Stratagem;
Nor. The Times are wilde: Contention (like a Horse
Nor. Full of high Feeding) madly hath broke loose,
Nor. And beares downe all before him.
L. Bar. Noble Earle,
L. Bar. I bring you certaine newes from Shrewsbury.
Nor. Good, and heauen will.
L. Bar. As good as heart can wish:
L. Bar. The King is almost wounded to the death:
L. Bar. And in the Fortune of my Lord your Sonne,