Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Q. M. Why strew'st thou Sugar on that Bottel'd Spider,
Q. M. Whose deadly Web ensnareth thee about?
Q. M. Foole, foole, thou whet'st a Knife to kill thy selfe:
Q. M. The day will come, that thou shalt wish for me,
Q. M. To helpe thee curse this poysonous Bunch‑backt Toade.
Hast. Hast.
Hast. False boding Woman, end thy frantick Curse,
Hast. Least to thy harme, thou moue our patience.
Q. M. Q. M.
Q. M. Foule shame vpon you, you haue all mou'd mine.
Ri. Ri.
Ri. Were you wel seru'd, you would be taught your duty.
Q. M. To serue me well, you all should do me duty,
Q. M. Teach me to be your Queene, and you my Subiects:
Q. M. O serue me well, and teach your selues that duty.
Dors. Dors.
Dors. Dispute not with her, shee is lunaticke.
Q. M. Peace Master Marquesse, you are malapert,