Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Ant. Grace grow where those drops fall (my hearty Friends)
Ant. You take me in too dolorous a sense,
Ant. For I spake to you for your comfort, did desire you
Ant. To burne this night with Torches: Know (my hearts)
Ant. I hope well of to morrow, and will leade you,
Ant. Where rather Ile expect victorious life,
Ant. Then death, and Honor. Let's to Supper, come,
Ant. And drowne consideration.
Ant. Exeunt.
Ant. [Act 4, Scene 3]
Ant. Enter a Company of Soldiours.
1. Sol. 1. Sol.
1. Sol. Brother, goodnight: to morrow is the day.
2. Sol. 2. Sol.
2. Sol. It will determine one way: Fare you well.
2. Sol. Heard you of nothing strange about the streets.
1 1
1 Nothing: what newes?
2 2
2 Belike 'tis but a Rumour, good night to you.