Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
King. King.
King. Well then, I know thee: what shall I know of thee?
Mountioy. Mountioy.
Mountioy. My Masters mind.
King. Vnfold it.
Mountioy. Thus sayes my King: Say thou to Harry of England, Though we seem'd dead, we did but sleepe: Aduantage is a better Souldier then rashnesse. Tell him, wee could haue rebuk'd him at Harflewe, but that wee thought not good to bruise an iniurie, till it were full ripe. Now wee speake vpon our Q. and our voyce is im- periall; England shall repent his folly, see his weake- nesse, and admire our sufferance. Bid him therefore con- sider of his ransome, which must proportion the losses we haue borne, the subiects we haue lost, the disgrace we haue digested; which in weight to re-answer, his petti- nesse would bow vnder. For our losses, his Exchequer is too poore; for th'effusion of our bloud, the Muster of his Kingdome too faint a number; and for our disgrace, his owne person kneeling at our feet, but a weake and worth- lesse satisfaction. To this adde defiance: and tell him for conclusion, he hath betrayed his followers, whose con- demnation is pronounc't: So farre my King and Master; so much my Office.
King. What is thy name? I know thy qualitie.
Mount. Mount.
Mount. Mountioy.
King. Thou doo'st thy Office fairely. Turne thee back,
King. And tell thy King, I doe not seeke him now,
King. But could be willing to march on to Callice,
King. Without impeachment: for to say the sooth,
King. Though 'tis no wisdome to confesse so much
King. Vnto an enemie of Craft and Vantage,
King. My people are with sicknesse much enfeebled,