Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Old L. How tasts it? Is it bitter? Forty pence, no:
Old L. There was a Lady once (tis an old Story)
Old L. That would not be a Queene, that would she not
Old L. For all the mud in Egypt; haue you heard it?
An. An.
An. Come you are pleasant.
Old. L. Old. L.
Old. L. With your Theame, I could
Old. L. Ore‑mount the Larke: The Marchionesse of Pembrooke?
Old. L. A thousand pounds a yeare, for pure respect?
Old. L. No other obligation? by my Life,
Old. L. That promises mo thousands: Honours traine
Old. L. Is longer then his fore‑skirt; by this time
Old. L. I know your backe will beare a Dutchesse. Say,
Old. L. Are you not stronger then you were?
An. Good Lady,
An. Make your selfe mirth with your particular fancy,
An. And leaue me out on't. Would I had no being
An. If this salute my blood a iot; it faints me