Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Glou. Glou.
Glou. His eyes are humbler then they vs'd to be.
King. King.
King. How now, what meanes this Herald? Knowst
King. thou not,
King. That I haue fin'd these bones of mine for ransome?
King. Com'st thou againe for ransome?
Her. Her.
Her. No great King:
Her. I come to thee for charitable License,
Her. That we may wander ore this bloody field,
Her. To booke our dead, and then to bury them,
Her. To sort our Nobles from our common men.
Her. For many of our Princes (woe the while)
Her. Lye drown'd and soak'd in mercenary blood:
Her. So do our vulgar drench their peasant limbes
Her. In blood of Princes, and with wounded steeds
Her. Fret fet-locke deepe in gore, and with wilde rage
Her. Yerke out their armed heeles at their dead masters,
Her. Killing them twice. O giue vs leaue great King,