Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Ant. If Fortune be not ours to day, it is
Ant. Because we braue her. Come.
Cleo. Cleo.
Cleo. Nay, Ile helpe too, Anthony.
Cleo. What's this for? Ah let be, let be, thou art
Cleo. The Armourer of my heart: False, false: This, this,
Cleo. Sooth‑law Ile helpe: Thus it must bee.
Ant. Ant.
Ant. Well, well, we shall thriue now.
Ant. Seest thou my good Fellow. Go, put on thy defences.
Eros. Eros.
Eros. Briefely Sir.
Cleo. Is not this buckled well?
Ant. Rarely, rarely:
Ant. He that vnbuckles this, till we do please
Ant. To daft for our Repose, shall heare a storme.
Ant. Thou fumblest Eros, and my Queenes a Squire
Ant. More tight at this, then thou: Dispatch. O Loue,