Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Rom. Rom.
Rom. Alas that loue, whose view is muffled still,
Rom. Should without eyes, see path‑wayes to his will:
Rom. Where shall we dine? O me: what fray was heere?
Rom. Yet tell me not, for I haue heard it all:
Rom. Heere's much to do with hate, but more with loue:
Rom. Why then, O brawling loue, O louing hate,
Rom. O any thing, of nothing first created:
Rom. O heauie lightnesse, serious vanity,
Rom. Mishapen Chaos of welseeing formes,
Rom. Feather of lead, bright smoake, cold fire, sicke health,
Rom. Still waking sleepe, that is not what it is:
Rom. This loue feele I, that feele no loue in this.
Rom. Doest thou not laugh?
Ben. Ben.
Ben. No Coze, I rather weepe.
Rom. Good heart, at what?
Ben. At thy good hearts oppression.