Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Shep. Kneele downe and take my blessing, good my Gyrle.
Shep. Wilt thou not stoope? Now cursed be the time
Shep. Of thy natiuitie: I would the Milke
Shep. Thy mother gaue thee when thou suck'st her brest,
Shep. Had bin a little Rats‑bane for thy sake.
Shep. Or else, when thou didst keepe my Lambes a‑field,
Shep. I wish some rauenous Wolfe had eaten thee.
Shep. Doest thou deny thy Father, cursed Drab?
Shep. O burne her, burne her, hanging is too good.
Shep. Exit.
Yorke. Yorke.
Yorke. Take her away, for she hath liu'd too long,
Yorke. To fill the world with vicious qualities.
Puc. Puc.
Puc. First let me tell you whom you haue condemn'd;
Puc. Not me, begotten of a Shepheard Swaine,
Puc. But issued from the Progeny of Kings.
Puc. Vertuous and Holy, chosen from aboue,
Puc. By inspiration of Celestiall Grace,
Puc. To worke exceeding myracles on earth.