Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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2. No my Lord; nor crop the eares of them.
Clot. Clot.
Clot. Whorson dog: I gaue him satisfaction? would
Clot. he had bin one of my Ranke.
2. 2.
2. To haue smell'd like a Foole.
Clot. I am not vext more at any thing in th'earth: a
Clot. pox on't. I had rather not be so Noble as I am: they dare
Clot. not fight with me, because of the Queene my Mo
Clot. ther: euery Iacke‑Slaue hath his belly full of Fighting,
Clot. and I must go vp and downe like a Cock, that no body
Clot. can match.
2. You are Cocke and Capon too, and you crow
2. Cock, with your combe on.
Clot. Sayest thou?
2. It is not fit you Lordship should vndertake euery