Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Rom. In tattred weeds, with ouerwhelming browes,
Rom. Culling of Simples, meager were his lookes,
Rom. Sharp miserie had worne him to the bones:
Rom. And in his needie shop a Tortoyrs hung,
Rom. An Allegater stuft, and other skins
Rom. Of ill shap'd fishes, and about his shelues,
Rom. A beggerly account of emptie boxes,
Rom. Greene earthen pots, Bladders, and mustie seedes,
Rom. Remnants of packthred, and old cakes of Roses
Rom. Were thinly scattered, to make vp a shew.
Rom. Noting this penury, to my selfe I said,
Rom. An if a man did need a poyson now,
Rom. Whose sale is persent death in Mantua,
Rom. Here liues a Caitiffe wretch would sell it him.
Rom. O this same thought did but fore‑run my need,
Rom. And this same needie man must sell it me.
Rom. As I remember, this should be the house,
Rom. Being holy day, the beggers shop is shut.
Rom. What ho? Appothecarie?
Rom. Enter Appothecarie.