Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Perd. But milke my Ewes, and weepe.
Cam. Cam.
Cam. Why how now Father,
Cam. Speake ere thou dyest.
Shep. Shep.
Shep. I cannot speake, nor thinke,
Shep. Nor dare to know, that which I know: O Sir,
Shep. You haue vndone a man of fourescore three,
Shep. That thought to fill his graue in quiet: yea,
Shep. To dye vpon the bed my father dy’de,
Shep. To lye close by his honest bones; but now
Shep. Some Hangman must put on my shrowd, and lay me
Shep. Where no Priest shouels‑in dust. Oh cursed wretch,
Shep. That knew’st this was the Prince, and wouldst aduenture
Shep. To mingle faith with him. Vndone, vndone:
Shep. If I might dye within this houre, I haue liu’d
Shep. To die when I desire.
Shep. Exit.
Flo. Flo.
Flo. Why looke you so vpon me?