Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Mar. Mar.
Mar. No, Ile not be your halfe:
Mar. Take all and weane it, it may proue an Oxe.
Long. Long.
Long. Looke how you but your selfe in these sharpe
Long. mockes.
Long. Will you giue hornes chast Ladie? Do not so.
Mar. Then die a Calfe before your horns do grow.
Lon. Lon.
Lon. One word in priuate with you ere I die.
Mar. Bleat softly then, the Butcher heares you cry.
Boyet. Boyet.
Boyet. The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen
Boyet. As is the Razors edge, inuisible:
Boyet. Cutting a smaller haire then may be seene,
Boyet. Aboue the sense of sence so sensible:
Boyet. Seemeth their conference, their conceits haue wings,
Boyet. Fleeter then arrows, bullets wind, thoght, swifter things