Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Othe. My very Noble, and approu'd good Masters;
Othe. That I haue tane away this old mans Daughter,
Othe. It is most true: true I haue married her;
Othe. The verie head, and front of my offending,
Othe. Hath this extent; no more. Rude am I, in my speech,
Othe. And little bless'd with the soft phrase of Peace;
Othe. For since these Armes of mine, had seuen yeares pith,
Othe. Till now, some nine Moones wasted, they haue vs'd
Othe. Their deerest action, in the Tented Field:
Othe. And little of this great world can I speake,
Othe. More then pertaines to Feats of Broiles, and Battaile,
Othe. And therefore little shall I grace my cause,
Othe. In speaking for my selfe. Yet, (by your gratious patience)
Othe. I will a round vn‑varnish'd Tale deliuer,
Othe. Of my whole course of Loue.
Othe. What Drugges, what Charmes,
Othe. What Coniuration, and what mighty Magicke,
Othe. (For such proceeding I am charg'd withall)
Othe. I won his Daughter.
Bra. Bra.