Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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3. Man. So workmanlie the blood and teares are drawne.
Lord. Lord.
Lord. Thou art a Lord, and nothing but a Lord:
Lord. Thou hast a Ladie farre more Beautifull,
Lord. Then any woman in this waining age.
1 Man. 1 Man.
1 Man. And til the teares that she hath shed for thee,
1 Man. Like enuious flouds ore‑run her louely face,
1 Man. She was the fairest creature in the world,
1 Man. And yet shee is inferiour to none.
Beg. Beg.
Beg. Am I a Lord, and haue I such a Ladie?
Beg. Or do I dreame? Or haue I dream'd till now?
Beg. I do not sleepe: I see, I heare, I speake:
Beg. I smel sweet sauours, and I feele soft things:
Beg. Vpon my life I am a Lord indeede,
Beg. And not a Tinker, nor Christopher Slie.
Beg. Well, bring our Ladie hither to our sight,
Beg. And once againe a pot o'th smallest Ale.
Beg. S3