Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Hen. How many makes the Houre full compleate,
Hen. How many Houres brings about the Day,
Hen. How many Dayes will finish vp the Yeare,
Hen. How many Yeares, a Mortall man may liue.
Hen. When this is knowne, then to diuide the Times:
Hen. So many Houres, must I tend my Flocke;:
Hen. So many Houres, must I take my Rest:
Hen. So many Houres, must I Contemplate:
Hen. So many Houres, must I Sport my selfe:
Hen. So many Dayes, my Ewes haue bene with yong:
Hen. So many weekes, ere the poore Fooles will Eane:
Hen. So many yeares, ere I shall sheere the Fleece:
Hen. So Minutes, Houres, Dayes, Monthes, and Yeares,
Hen. Past ouer to the end they were created,
Hen. Would bring white haires, vnto a Quiet graue.
Hen. Ah! what a life were this? How sweet? how louely?
Hen. Giues not the Hawthorne bush a sweeter shade
Hen. To Shepheards, looking on their silly Sheepe,
Hen. Then doth a rich Imbroider'd Canopie
Hen. To Kings, that feare their Subiects treacherie?