Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
An. That all the teares that thy poore eyes let fall
An. May run into that sinke, and soaking in,
An. Drowne the lamenting foole, in Sea salt teares.
Mar. Mar.
Mar. Fy brother fy, teach her not thus to lay
Mar. Such violent hands vppon her tender life.
An. An.
An. How now! Has sorrow made thee doate already?
An. Why Marcus, no man should be mad but I:
An. What violent hands can she lay on her life:
An. Ah, wherefore dost thou vrge the name of hands,
An. To bid æneas tell the tale twice ore
An. How Troy was burnt, and he made miserable?
An. O handle not the theame, to talke of hands,
An. Least we remember still that we haue none,
An. Fie, fie, how Frantiquely I square my talke
An. As if we should forget we had no hands:
An. If Marcus did not name the word of hands.
An. Come, lets fall too, and gentle girle eate this,
An. Heere is no drinke? Harke Marcus what she saies,