Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Bot. Whose note full many a man doth marke,
Bot. And dares not answere, nay.
Bot. For indeede, who would set his wit to so foolish a bird?
Bot. Who would giue a bird the lye, though he cry Cuckow,
Bot. neuer so?
Tyta. Tyta.
Tyta. I pray thee gentle mortall, sing againe,
Tyta. Mine eare is much enamored of thy note;
Tyta. On the first view to say, to sweare I loue thee.
Tyta. So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape.
Tyta. And thy faire vertues force (perforce) doth moue me.
Bot. Bot.
Bot. Me‑thinkes mistresse, you should haue little
Bot. reason for that: and yet to say the truth, reason and
Bot. loue keepe little company together, now‑adayes.
Bot. The more the pittie, that some honest neighbours will
Bot. not make them friends. Nay, I can gleeke vpon occa
Bot. sion.
Tyta. Thou art as wise, as thou art beautifull.