Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Lord. A narrow Lane, an old man, and two Boyes.
Post. Post.
Post. Nay, do not wonder at it: you are made
Post. Rather to wonder at the things you heare,
Post. Then to worke any. Will you Rime vpon't,
Post. And vent it for a Mock'rie? Heere is one:
Post. “Two Boyes, an Oldman (twice a Boy) a Lane,
Post. “Preseru'd the Britaines, was the Romanes bane.
Lord. Lord.
Lord. Nay, be not angry Sir.
Post. Lacke, to what end?
Post. Who dares not stand his Foe, Ile be his Friend:
Post. For if hee'l do, as he is made to doo,
Post. I know hee'l quickly flye my friendship too.
Post. You haue put me into Rime.
Lord. Farewell, you're angry.
Lord. Exit.