Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Dro. That like a foot‑ball you doe spurne me thus:
Dro. You spurne me hence, and he will spurne me hither,
Dro. If I last in this seruice, you must case me in leather.
Luci. Luci.
Luci. Fie how impatience lowreth in your face.
Adri. Adri.
Adri. His company must do his minions grace,
Adri. Whil'st I at home starue for a merrie looke:
Adri. Hath homelie age th' alluring beauty tooke
Adri. From my poore cheeke? then he hath wasted it.
Adri. Are my discourses dull? Barren my wit,
Adri. If voluble and sharpe discourse be mar'd,
Adri. Vnkindnesse blunts it more then marble hard.
Adri. Doe their gay vestments his affections baite?
Adri. That's not my fault, hee's master of my state.
Adri. What ruines are in me that can be found,
Adri. By him not ruin'd? Then is he the ground
Adri. Of my defeatures. My decayed faire,
Adri. A sunnie looke of his, would soone repaire.
Adri. But, too vnruly Deere, he breakes the pale,