Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Sil. You meet in some fresh cheeke the power of fancie,
Sil. Then shall you know the wounds inuisible
Sil. That Loues keene arrows make.
Phe. Phe.
Phe. But till that time
Phe. Come not thou neere me: and when that time comes,
Phe. Afflict me with thy mockes, pitty me not,
Phe. As till that time I shall not pitty thee.
Ros. Ros.
Ros. And why I pray you? who might be your mother
Ros. That you insult, exult, and all at once
Ros. Ouer the wretched? what though you hau no beauty
Ros. As by my faith, I see no more in you
Ros. Then without Candle may goe darke to bed:
Ros. Must you be therefore prowd and pittilesse?
Ros. Why what meanes this? why do you looke on me?
Ros. I see no more in you then in the ordinary
Ros. Of Natures sale‑worke? 'ods my little life,
Ros. I thinke she meanes to tangle my eies too:
Ros. No faith proud Mistresse, hope not after it,