Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Grati. Grati.
Grati. Let me play the foole,
Grati. With mirth and laughter let old wrinckles come,
Grati. And let my Liuer rather heate with wine,
Grati. Then my heart coole with mortifying grones.
Grati. Why should a man whose bloud is warme within,
Grati. Sit like his Grandsire, cut in Alablaster?
Grati. Sleepe when he wakes? and creep into the Iaundies
Grati. By
Grati. The Merchant of Venice.
Grati. By being peeuish? I tell thee what Anthonio,
Grati. I loue thee, and it is my loue that speakes:
Grati. There are a sort of men, whose visages
Grati. Do creame and mantle like a standing pond,
Grati. And do a wilfull stilnesse entertaine,
Grati. With purpose to be drest in an opinion
Grati. Of wisedome, grauity, profound conceit,
Grati. As who should say, I am sir an Oracle,
Grati. And when I ope my lips, let no dogge barke.
Grati. O my Anthonio, I do know of these