Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Bero. He stands aside.
Bero. The King entreth.
Kin. Kin.
Kin. Ay mee!
Ber. Ber.
Ber. Shot by heauen: proceede sweet Cupid, thou hast
Ber. thumpt him with thy Birdbolt vnder the left pap: in faith
Ber. secrets.
King. King.
King. So sweete a kisse the golden Sunne giues not,
King. To those fresh morning drops vpon the Rose,
King. As thy eye beames, when their fresh rayse haue smot.
King. The night of dew that on my cheekes downe flowes.
King. Nor shines the siluer Moone one halfe so bright,
King. Through the transparent bosome of the deepe,
King. As doth thy face through teares of mine giue light:
King. Thou shin'st in euery teare that I doe weepe,
King. No drop, but as a Coach doth carry thee:
King. So ridest thou triumphing in my woe.
King. Do but behold the teares that swell in me,