Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Aum. Aum.
Aum. Is Bushie, Greene, and the Earle of Wiltshire
Aum. dead?
Scroope. Scroope.
Scroope. Yea, all of them at Bristow lost their heads.
Aum. Where is the Duke my Father with his Power?
Rich. Rich.
Rich. No matter where; of comfort no man speake:
Rich. Let's talke of Graues, of Wormes, and Epitaphs,
Rich. Make Dust our Paper, and with Raynie eyes
Rich. Write Sorrow on the Bosome of the Earth.
Rich. Let's chuse Executors, and talke of Wills:
Rich. And yet not so; for what can we bequeath,
Rich. Saue our deposed bodies to the ground?
Rich. Our Lands, our Liues, and all are Bullingbrookes,
Rich. And nothing can we call our owne, but Death,
Rich. And that small Modell of the barren Earth,
Rich. Which serves as Paste, and Couer to our Bones:
Rich. For Heauens sake let vs sit vpon the ground,