Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Aron. Aron.
Aron. Some deuill whisper curses in my eare,
Aron. And prompt me that my tongue may vtter forth,
Aron. The Venemous Mallice of my swelling heart.
Luc. Luc.
Luc. Away Inhumaine Dogge, Vnhallowed Slaue,
Luc. Sirs, helpe our Vnckle, to conuey him in,
Luc. Flourish
Luc. The Trumpets shew the Emperour is at hand.
Luc. Sound Trumpets. Enter Emperour and Empresse, with
Luc. Tribunes and others.
Sat. Sat.
Sat. What, hath the Firemament more Suns then one?
Luc. What bootes it thee to call thy selfe a Sunne?
Mar. Mar.
Mar. Romes Emperour & Nephewe breake the parle
Mar. These quarrels must be quietly debated,
Mar. The Feast is ready which the carefull Titus,
Mar. Hath