Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Vil. We are my Lord, and come to haue the Warrant,
Vil. That we may be admitted where he is.
Ric. Ric.
Ric. Well thought vpon, I haue it heare about me:
Ric. When you haue done, repayre to Crosby place;
Ric. But sirs be sodaine in the execution,
Ric. Withall obdurate, do not heare him pleade;
Ric. For Clarence is well spoken, and perhappes
Ric. May moue your hearts to pitty, if you marke him.
Vil. Vil.
Vil. Tut, tut, my Lord, we will not stand to prate,
Vil. Talkers are no good dooers, be assur'd:
Vil. We go to vse our hands, and not our tongues.
Rich. Rich.
Rich. Your eyes drop Mill‑stones, when Fooles eyes
Rich. fall Teares:
Rich. I like you Lads, about your businesse straight.
Rich. Go, go, dispatch.
Vil. We will my Noble Lord.