Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Lys. I, by my life;
Lys. And neuer did desire to see thee more.
Lys. Therefore be out of hope, of question, of doubt;
Lys. Be certaine, nothing truer: 'tis no iest,
Lys. That I doe hate thee, and loue Helena.
Her. Her.
Her. O me, you iugler, you canker blossome,
Her. You theefe of loue; What, haue you come by night,
Her. And stolne my loues heart from him?
Hel. Hel.
Hel. Fine yfaith:
Hel. Haue you no modesty, no maiden shame,
Hel. No touch of bashfulnesse? What, will you teare
Hel. Impatient answers from my gentle tongue?
Hel. Fie, fie, you counterfeit, you puppet, you.
Her. Puppet? why so? I, that way goes the game.
Her. Now I perceiue that she hath made compare
Her. Betweene our statures, she hath vrg'd her height,
Her. And with her personage, her tall personage,