Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Leo. Thou want’st a rough pash, & the shoots that I haue
Leo. To be full, like me: yet they say we are
Leo. Almost as like as Egges; Women say so,
Leo. (That will say any thing.) But were they false
Leo. As o’re‑dy’d Blacks, as Wind, as Waters; false
Leo. As Dice are to be wish’d, by one that fixes
Leo. No borne 'twixt his and mine; yet were it true,
Leo. To say this Boy were like me. Come (Sir Page)
Leo. Looke on me with your Welkin eye: sweet Villaine,
Leo. Most dear’st, my Collop: Can thy Dam, may’t be
Leo. Affection? thy Intention stabs the Center.
Leo. Thou do’st make possible things not so held,
Leo. Communicat’st with Dreames (how can this be?)
Leo. With what’s vnreall: thou coactiue art,
Leo. And fellow’st nothing. Then 'tis very credent,
Leo. Thou may’st co‑ioyne with something, and thou do’st,
Leo. (And that beyond Commission) and I find it,
Leo. (And that to the infection of my Braines,
Leo. And hardning of my Browes.)
Pol. Pol.