Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Flo. These your vnvsuall weeds, to each part of you
Flo. Do’s giue a life: no Shepherdesse, but Flora
Flo. Peering in Aprils front. This your sheepe‑shearing,
Flo. Is as a meeting of the petty Gods,
Flo. And you the Queene on’t.
Perd. Perd.
Perd. Sir: my gracious Lord,
Perd. To chide at your extreames, it not becomes me:
Perd. (Oh pardon, that I name them:) your high selfe
Perd. The gracious marke o’th’Land, you haue obscur’d
Perd. With a Swaines wearing: and me (poore lowly Maide)
Perd. Most Goddesse‑like prank’d vp: But that our Feasts
Perd. In euery Messe, haue folly; and the Feeders
Perd. Digest with a Custome, I should blush
Perd. To see you so attyr’d: sworne I thinke,
Perd. To shew my selfe a glasse.
Flo. Flo.
Flo. I blesse the time
Flo. When my good Falcon, made her flight a‑crosse
Flo. Thy Fathers ground.