Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
King. In libertie of bloody hand, shall raunge
King. With Conscience wide as Hell, mowing like Grasse
King. Your fresh faire Virgins, and your flowring Infants.
King. What is it then to me, if impious Warre,
King. Arrayed in flames like to the Prince of Fiends,
King. Doe with his smyrcht complexion all fell feats,
King. Enlynckt to wast and desolation?
King. What is't to me, when you your selues are cause,
King. If your pure Maydens fall into the hand
King. Of hot and forcing Violation?
King. What Reyne can hold licentious Wickednesse,
King. When downe the Hill he holds his fierce Carriere?
King. We may as bootlesse spend our vaine Command
King. Vpon th'enraged Souldiers in their spoyle,
King. As send Precepts to the Leuiathan, to come ashore.
King. Therefore, you men of Harflew,
King. Take pitty of your Towne and of your People,
King. Whiles yet my Souldiers are in my Command,
King. Whiles yet the coole and temperate Wind of Grace
King. O're-blowes the filthy and contagious Clouds