Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Cou. But thinke you Hellen,
Cou. If you should tender your supposed aide,
Cou. He would receiue it? He and his Phisitions
Cou. Are of a minde, he, that they cannot helpe him:
Cou. They, that they cannot helpe, how shall they credit
Cou. A poore vnlearned Virgin, when the Schooles
Cou. Embowel'd of their doctrine, haue left off
Cou. The danger to it selfe.
Hell. Hell.
Hell. There's something in't
Hell. More then my Fathers skill, which was the great'st
Hell. Of his profession, that his good receipt,
Hell. Shall for my legacie be sanctified
Hell. By th'luckiest stars in heauen, and would your honor
Hell. But giue me leaue to trie successe, I'de venture
Hell. The well lost life of mine, on his Graces cure,
Hell. By such a day, an houre.
Cou. Cou.
Cou. Doo'st thou beleeue't?