Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Buck. All the whole time
Buck. I was my Chambers Prisoner.
Nor. Nor.
Nor. Then you lost
Nor. The view of earthly glory: Men might say
Nor. Till this time Pompe was single, but now married
Nor. To one aboue it selfe. Each following day
Nor. Became the next dayes master, till the last
Nor. Made former Wonders, it's. To day the French,
Nor. All Clinquant all in Gold, like Heathen Gods
Nor. Shone downe the English; and to morrow, they
Nor. Made Britaine, India: Euery man that stood,
Nor. Shew d like a Mine. Their Dwarfish Pages were
Nor. As Cherubins, all gilt: the Madams too,
Nor. Not vs'd to toyle, did almost sweat to beare
Nor. The Pride vpon them, that their very labour
Nor. Was to them, as a Painting. Now this Maske
Nor. Was cry'de incompareable; and th'ensuing night
Nor. Made it a Foole, and Begger. The two Kings
Nor. Equall in lustre, were now best, now worst