Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Richard. So far'd our Father with his Enemies,
Richard. So fled his Enemies my Warlike Father:
Richard. Me thinkes 'tis prize enough to be his Sonne.
Richard. See how the Morning opes her golden Gates,
Richard. And takes her farwell of the glorious Sunne.
Richard. How well resembles it the prime of Youth,
Richard. Trimm'd like a Yonker, prauncing to his Loue?
Ed. Ed.
Ed. Dazle mine eyes, or doe I see three Sunnes?
Rich. Rich.
Rich. Three glorious Sunnes, each one a perfect Sunne,
Rich. Not seperated with the racking Clouds,
Rich. But seuer'd in a pale cleare‑shining Skye.
Rich. See, see, they ioyne, embrace, and seeme to kisse,
Rich. As if they vow'd some League inuiolable.
Rich. Now are they but one Lampe, one Light, one Sunne:
Rich. In this, the Heauen figures some euent.
Edward. Edward.
Edward. 'Tis wondrous strange,
Edward. The like yet neuer heard of.