Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Art. He is affraid of me, and I of him:
Art. Is it my fault, that I was Geffreyes sonne?
Art. No in deede is't not: and I would to heauen
Art. I were your sonne, so you would loue me, Hubert:
Hub. Hub.
Hub. If I talke to him, with his innocent prate
Hub. He will awake my mercie, which lies dead:
Hub. Therefore I will be sodaine, and dispatch.
Ar. Ar.
Ar. Are you sicke Hubert? you looke pale to day,
Ar. Insooth I would you were a little sicke,
Ar. That I might sit all night, and watch with you.
Ar. I warrant I loue you more then you do me.
Hub. His words do take possession of my bosome.
Hub. Reade heere yong Arthur. How now foolish rheume?
Hub. Turning dispitious torture out of doore?
Hub. I must be breefe, least resolution drop
Hub. Out at mine eyes, in tender womanish teares.
Hub. Can you not reade it? Is it not faire writ?