Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Bul. What my tong speaks, my right drawn sword may proue
Mow. Mow.
Mow. Let not my cold words heere accuse my zeale:
Mow. 'Tis not the triall of a Womans warre,
Mow. The bitter clamour of two eager tongues,
Mow. Can arbitrate this cause betwixt vs twaine:
Mow. The blood is hot that must be cool'd for this.
Mow. Yet can I not of such tame patience boast,
Mow. As to be husht, and nought at all to say.
Mow. First the faire reuerence of your Highnesse curbes mee,
Mow. From giuing reines and spurres to my free speech,
Mow. Which else would post, vntill it had return'd
Mow. These tearmes of treason, doubly downe his throat.
Mow. Setting aside his high bloods royalty,
Mow. And let him be no Kinsman to my Liege,
Mow. I do defie him, and I spit at him,
Mow. Call him a slanderous Coward, and a Villaine:
Mow. Which to maintaine, I would allow him oddes,
Mow. And meete him, were I tide to runne afoote,
Mow. Euen to the frozen ridges of the Alpes,