Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Com. He could not stay to picke them, in a pile
Com. Of noysome musty Chaffe. He said, 'twas folly
Com. For one poore graine or two, to leaue vnburnt
Com. And still to nose th'offence.
Menen. Menen.
Menen. For one poore graine or two?
Menen. I am one of those: his Mother, Wife, his Childe,
Menen. And this braue Fellow too: we are the Graines,
Menen. You are the musty Chaffe, and you are smelt
Menen. Aboue the Moone. We must be burnt for you.
Sicin. Sicin.
Sicin. Nay, pray be patient: If you refuse your ayde
Sicin. In this so neuer‑needed helpe, yet do not
Sicin. Vpbraid's with our distresse. But sure if you
Sicin. Would be your Countries Pleader, your good tongue
Sicin. More then the instant Armie we can make
Sicin. Might stop our Countryman.
Mene. Mene.
Mene. No: Ile not meddle.