Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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King. King.
King. I would I had, so I had broke thy pate
King. And askt thee mercy for't.
Laf. Laf.
Laf. Goodfaith a‑crosse, but my good Lord 'tis thus,
Laf. Will you be cur'd of your infirmitie?
King. No.
Laf. O will you eat no grapes my royall foxe?
Laf. Yes but you will, my noble grapes, and if
Laf. My royall foxe could reach them: I haue seen a medicine
Laf. That's able to breath life into a stone,
Laf. Quicken a rocke, and make you dance Canari
Laf. With sprightly fire and motion, whose simple touch
Laf. Is powerfull to arayse King Pippen, nay
Laf. To giue great Charlemaine a pen in's hand
Laf. And write to her a loue‑line.
King. What her is this?