Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Art. Art.
Art. Alas, I then haue chid away my friend,
Art. He hath a sterne looke, but a gentle heart:
Art. Let him come backe, that his compassion may
Art. Giue life to yours.
Hub. Hub.
Hub. Come (Boy) prepare your selfe.
Art. Is there no remedie?
Hub. None, but to lose your eyes.
Art. O heauen: that there were but a moth in yours,
Art. A graine, a dust, a gnat, a wandering haire,
Art. Any annoyance in that precious sense:
Art. Then feeling what small things are boysterous there,
Art. Your vilde intent must needs seeme horrible.
Hub. Is this your promise? Go too, hold your toong