Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Loren. Doth grosly close in it, we cannot heare it:
Loren. Come hoe, and wake Diana with a hymne,
Loren. With sweetest tutches pearce your Mistresse eare,
Loren. And draw her home with musicke.
Iessi. Iessi.
Iessi. I am neuer merry when I heare sweet musique.
Iessi. Play musicke.
Lor. Lor.
Lor. The reason is, your spirits are attentiue:
Lor. For doe but note a wilde and wanton heard
Lor. Or race of youthful and vnhandled colts,
Lor. Fetching mad bounds, bellowing and neighing loud,
Lor. Which is the hot condition of their bloud,
Lor. If they but heare perchance a trumpet sound,
Lor. Or any ayre of musicke touch their eares,
Lor. You shall perceiue them make a mutuall stand,
Lor. Their sauage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze,
Lor. By the sweet power of musicke: therefore the Poet
Lor. Did faine that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods.
Lor. Since naught so stockish, hard, and full of rage,