Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Duk. Sen. And churlish chiding of the winters winde,
Duk. Sen. Which when it bites and blowes vpon my body
Duk. Sen. Euen till I shrinke with cold, I smile, and say
Duk. Sen. This is no flattery: these are counsellors
Duk. Sen. That feelingly perswade me what I am:
Duk. Sen. Sweet are the vses of aduersitie
Duk. Sen. Which like the toad, ougly and venemous,
Duk. Sen. Weares yet a precious Iewell in his head:
Duk. Sen. And this our life exempt from publike haunt,
Duk. Sen. Findes tongues in trees, bookes in the running brookes,
Duk. Sen. Sermons in stones, and good in euery thing.
Amien. Amien.
Amien. I would not change it, happy is your Grace
Amien. That can translate the stubbornnesse of fortune
Amien. Into so quiet and so sweet a stile.
Du. Sen. Du. Sen.
Du. Sen. Come, shall we goe and kill vs venison?
Du. Sen. And yet it irkes me the poore dapled fooles
Du. Sen. Being natiue Burgers of this desert City,
Du. Sen. Should intheir owne confines with forked heads