Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Mount. With teares augmenting the fresh mornings deaw,
Mount. Adding to cloudes, more cloudes with his deepe sighes,
Mount. But all so soone as the all‑cheering Sunne,
Mount. Should in the farthest East begin to draw
Mount. The shadie Curtaines from Auroras bed,
Mount. Away from light steales home my heauy Sonne,
Mount. And priuate in his Chamber pennes himselfe,
Mount. Shuts vp his windowes, lockes faire day‑light out,
Mount. And makes himselfe an artificiall night:
Mount. Blacke and portendous must this humour proue,
Mount. Vnlesse good counsell may the cause remoue.
Ben. Ben.
Ben. My Noble Vncle doe you know the cause?
Moun. Moun.
Moun. I neither know it, nor can learne of him.
Ben. Haue you importun'd him by any meanes?
Moun. Both by my selfe and many other Friends,
Moun. But he his owne affections counseller,