Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Pol. Or giuen my heart a winking, mute and dumbe,
Pol. Or look'd vpon this Loue, with idle sight,
Pol. What might you thinke? No, I went round to worke,
Pol. And (my yong Mistris) thus I did bespeake
Pol. Lord Hamlet is, a Prince out of thy Starre,
Pol. This must not be: and then, I Precepts gaue her,
Pol. That she should locke her selfe from his Resort,
Pol. Admit no Messengers, receiue no Tokens:
Pol. Which done, she tooke the Fruites of my Aduice,
Pol. And he repulsed. A short Tale to make,
Pol. Fell into a Sadnesse, then into a Fast,
Pol. Thence to a Watch, thence into a Weaknesse,
Pol. Thence to a Lightnesse, and by this declension
Pol. Into the Madnesse whereon now he raues,
Pol. And all we waile for.
King. King.
King. Do you thinke 'tis this?
Qu. Qu.
Qu. It may be very likely.
Pol. Pol.