Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Mess. For that good hand thou sentst the Emperour:
Mess. Heere are the heads of thy two noble sonnes.
Mess. And heeres thy hand in scorne to thee sent backe:
Mess. Thy griefes, their sports: Thy resolution mockt,
Mess. That woe is me to thinke vpon thy woes,
Mess. More then remembrance of my fathers death.
Mess. Exit.
Marc. Marc.
Marc. Now let hot ætna coole in Cicilie,
Marc. And be my heart an euer‑burning hell:
Marc. These miseries are more then may be borne.
Marc. To weepe with them that weepe, doth ease some deale,
Marc. But sorrow flouted at, is double death.
Luci. Luci.
Luci. Ah that this sight should make so deep a wound,
Luci. And yet detested life not shrinke thereat:
Luci. That euer death should let life beare his name,
Luci. Where life hath no more interest but to breath.
Mar. Mar.
Mar. Alas poore hart that kisse is comfortlesse,