Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Theseus. NOw faire Hippolita, our nuptiall houre
Theseus. Drawes on apace: foure happy daies bring in
Theseus. Another Moon: but oh, me thinkes, how slow
Theseus. This old Moon wanes; She lingers my desires
Theseus. Like to a Step‑dame, or a Dowager,
Theseus. Long withering out a yong mans reuennew.
Hip. Hip.
Hip. Foure daies wil quickly steep theēseluesthemselues in nights
Hip. Foure nights wil quickly dreame away the time:
Hip. And then the Moone, like to a siluer bow,
Hip. Now bent in heauen, shal behold the night
Hip. Of our solemnities.
The. The.
The. Go Philostrate,
The. Stirre vp the Athenian youth to merriments,
The. Awake the pert and nimble spirit of mirth,
The. Turne melancholy forth to Funerals:
The. The pale companion is not for our pompe,
The. Hippolita, I woo'd thee with my sword,
The. And wonne thy loue, doing thee iniuries: