Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Hen. Forc'd by the Tide, to combat with the Winde:
Hen. Now swayes it that way, like the selfe‑same Sea,
Hen. Forc'd to retyre by furie of the Winde.
Hen. Sometime, the Flood preuailes; and than the Winde:
Hen. Now, one the better: then, another best;
Hen. Both tugging to be Victors, brest to brest:
Hen. Yet neither Conqueror, nor Conquered.
Hen. So is the equall poise of this fell Warre.
Hen. Heere on this Mole‑hill will I sit me downe,
Hen. To whom God will, there be the Victorie:
Hen. For Margaret my Queene, and Clifford too
Hen. Haue chid me from the Battell: Swearing both,
Hen. They prosper best of all when I am thence.
Hen. Would I were dead, if Gods good will were so;
Hen. For what is in this world, but Greefe and Woe.
Hen. Oh God! me thinkes it were a happy life,
Hen. To be no better then a homely Swaine,
Hen. To sit vpon a hill, as I do now,
Hen. To carue out Dialls queintly, point by point,
Hen. Thereby to see the Minutes how they runne: