Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Lord. You breake into some merrie passion,
Lord. And so offend him: for I tell you sirs,
Lord. If you should smile, he growes impatient.
Plai. Plai.
Plai. Feare not my Lord, we can contain our selues,
Plai. Were he the veriest anticke in the world.
Lord. Lord.
Lord. Go sirra, take them to the Butterie,
Lord. And giue them friendly welcome euerie one,
Lord. Let them want nothing that my house affoords.
Lord. Exit one with the Players.
Lord. Sirra go you to Bartholmew my Page,
Lord. And see him drest in all suites like a Ladie:
Lord. That done, conduct him to the drunkards chamber,
Lord. And call him Madam, do him obeisance:
Lord. Tell him from me (as he will win my loue)
Lord. He beare himselfe with honourable action,
Lord. Such as he hath obseru'd in noble Ladies
Lord. Vnto their Lords, by them accomplished,
Lord. Such dutie to the drunkard let him do: