Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Ol. I thanke you for your paines: spend this for mee.
Vio. Vio.
Vio. I am no feede poast, Lady; keepe your purse,
Vio. My Master, not my selfe, lackes recompence.
Vio. Loue make his heart of flint, that you shal loue,
Vio. And let your feruour like my masters be,
Vio. Plac'd in contempt: Farwell fayre crueltie.
Vio. Exit
Ol. Ol.
Ol. What is your Parentage?
Ol. Aboue my fortunes, yet my state is well;
Ol. I am a Gentleman. Ile be sworne thou art,
Ol. Thy tongue, thy face, thy limbes, actions, and spirit,
Ol. Do giue thee fiue‑fold blazon: not too fast: soft, soft,
Ol. Vnlesse the Master were the man. How now?
Ol. Euen so quickly may one catch the plague?
Ol. Me thinkes I feele this youths perfections
Ol. With an inuisible, and subtle stealth
Ol. To creepe in at mine eyes. Well, let it be.
Ol. What hoa, Maluolio.