Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Dum. Dum.
Dum. How followes that?
Ber. Ber.
Ber. Fit in his place and time.
Dum. In reason nothing.
Ber. Something then in rime.
Ferd. Ferd.
Ferd. Berowne is like an enuious sneaping Frost,
Ferd. That bites the first borne infants of the Spring.
Ber. Wel, say I am, why should proud Summer boast,
Ber. Before the Birds haue any cause to sing?
Ber. Why should I ioy in any abortiue birth?
Ber. At Christmas I no more desire a Rose,
Ber. Then wish a Snow in Mayes new fangled showes:
Ber. But like of each thing that in season growes.
Ber. So you to studie now it is too late,
Ber. That were to clymbe ore the house to vnlocke the gate.