Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Cres. Come, come, beshrew your heart: youle nere be
Cres. good, nor suffer others.
Pan. Pan.
Pan. Ha, ha: alas poore wretch: a poore Chipochia, hast
Pan. not slept to night? would he not (a naughty man) let it
Pan. sleepe:a bug‑beare take him. One knocks.
Cres. Cres.
Cres. Did not I tell you? would he were knockt ith'
Cres. head. Who's that at doore? good Vnckle goe and see.
Cres. My Lord, come you againe into my Chamber:
Cres. You smile and mocke me, as if I meant naughtily.
Troy. Troy.
Troy. Ha, ha.
Cre. Cre.
Cre. Come you are deceiu'd, I thinke of no such thing.
Cre. How earnestly they knocke: pray you come in. Knocke.
Cre. I would not for halfe Troy haue you seene here.
Cre. Exeunt
Pan. Who's there? what's the matter? will you beate