Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Mar. After you first forswore it on the Mart,
Mar. And thereupon I drew my sword on you:
Mar. And then you fled into this Abbey heere,
Mar. From whence I thinke you are come by Miracle.
E. Ant. E. Ant.
E. Ant. I neuer came within these Abbey wals,
E. Ant. Nor euer didst thou draw thy sword on me:
E. Ant. I neuer saw the Chaine, so helpe me heauen:
E. Ant. And this is false you burthen me withall.
Duke. Duke.
Duke. Why what an intricate impeach is this?
Duke. I thinke you all haue drunke of Circes cup:
Duke. If heere you hous'd him, heere he would haue bin.
Duke. If he were mad, he would not pleade so coldly:
Duke. You say he din'd at home, the Goldsmith heere
Duke. Denies that saying. Sirra, what say you?
E. Dro. E. Dro.
E. Dro. Sir he din'de with her there, at the Porpentine.
Cur. Cur.
Cur. He did, and from my finger snacht that Ring.