Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Ber. To make my Lady laugh, when she's dispos'd;
Ber. Told
Ber. Loues Labour's lost.
Ber. Told our intents before: which once disclos'd,
Ber. The Ladies did change Fauours; and then we
Ber. Following the signes, woo'd but the signe of she.
Ber. Now to our periurie, to adde more terror,
Ber. We are againe forsworne in will and error.
Ber. Much vpon this tis: and might not you
Ber. Forestall our sport, to make vs thus vntrue?
Ber. Do not you know my Ladies foot by'th squier?
Ber. And laugh vpon the apple of her eie?
Ber. And stand betweene her backe sir, and the fire,
Ber. Holding a trencher, iesting merrilie?
Ber. You put our Page out: go, you are alowd.
Ber. Die when you will, a smocke shall be your shrowd.
Ber. You leere vpon me, do you? There's an eie
Ber. Wounds like a Leaden sword.
Boy. Boy.
Boy. Full merrily hath this braue manager, this car