Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Bru. Hee'l thinke your Mother chides, and leaue you so.
Bru. Enter a Poet.
Poet. Poet.
Poet. Let me go in to see the Generals,
Poet. There is some grudge betweene 'em, 'tis not meete
Poet. They be alone.
Lucil. Lucil.
Lucil. You shall not come to them.
Poet. Nothing but death shall stay me.
Cas. Cas.
Cas. How now? What's the matter?
Poet. For shame you Generals; what do you meane?
Poet. Loue, and be Friends, as two such men should bee,
Poet. For I haue seene more yeeres I'me sure then yee.
Cas. Ha, ha, how vildely doth this Cynicke rime?
Bru. Bru.
Bru. Get you hence sirra: Sawcy Fellow, hence.