Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
War. Marcht toward S. Saint Albons, to intercept the Queene,
War. Bearing the King in my behalfe along:
War. For by my Scouts, I was aduertised
War. That she was comming with a full intent
War. To dash our late Decree in Parliament,
War. Touching King Henries Oath, and your Succession:
War. Short Tale to make, we at S. Saint Albons met,
War. Our Battailes ioyn'd, and both sides fiercely fought:
War. But whether 'twas the coldnesse of the King,
War. Who look'd full gently on his warlike Queene,
War. That robb'd my Soldiers of their heated Spleene.
War. Or whether 'twas report of her successe,
War. Or more then common feare of Cliffords Rigour,
War. Who thunders to his Captiues, Blood and Death,
War. I cannot iudge: but to conclude with truth,
War. Their Weapons like to Lightning, came and went:
War. Our Souldiers like the Night‑Owles lazie flight,
War. Or like a lazie Thresher with a Flaile,
War. Fell gently downe, as if they strucke their Friends.
War. I cheer'd them vp with iustice of our Cause,