Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Cleo. Oh infinite Vertue, comm'st thou smiling from
Cleo. The worlds great snare vncaught.
Ant. Ant.
Ant. Mine Nightingale,
Ant. We haue beate them to their Beds.
Ant. What Gyrle, though gray
Ant. Do somthing mingle with our yonger brown, yet ha we
Ant. A Braine that nourishes our Nerues, and can
Ant. Get gole for gole of youth. Behold this man,
Ant. Commend vnto his Lippes thy fauouring hand,
Ant. Kisse it my Warriour: He hath fought to day,
Ant. As if a God in hate of Mankinde, had
Ant. Destroyed in such a shape.
Cleo. Cleo.
Cleo. Ile giue thee Friend
Cleo. An Armour all of Gold: it was a Kings.
Ant. He has deseru'd it, were it Carbunkled
Ant. Like holy Phœbus Carre. Giue me thy hand,
Ant. Through Alexandria make a iolly March,