Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Ros. And his kissing is as ful of sanctitie,
Ros. As the touch of holy bread.
Ros. Cel.
Ros. As you like it.
Cel. Cel.
Cel. Hee hath bought a paire of cast lips of Diana: a
Cel. Nun of winters sisterhood kisses not more religiouslie,
Cel. the very yce of chastity is in them.
Rosa. Rosa.
Rosa. But why did hee sweare hee would come this
Rosa. morning, and comes not?
Cel. Nay certainly there is no truth in him.
Ros. Ros.
Ros. Doe you thinke so?
Cel. Yes, I thinke he is not a picke purse, nor a horse
Cel. stealer, but for his verity in loue, I doe thinke him as
Cel. concaue as a couered goblet, or a Worme‑eaten nut.