Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Bap. Bianca stand aside, poore gyrle she weepes:
Bap. Go ply thy Needle, meddle not with her.
Bap. For shame thou Hilding of a diuellish spirit,
Bap. Why dost thou wrong her, that did nere wrong thee?
Bap. When did she crosse thee with a bitter word?
Kate. Kate.
Kate. Her silence flouts me, and Ile be reueng'd.
Kate. Flies after Bianca
Bap. Bap.
Bap. What in my sight? Bianca get thee in.
Bap. Exit.
Kate. What will you not suffer me: Nay now I see
Kate. She is your treasure, she must haue a husband,
Kate. I must dance bare‑foot on her wedding day,
Kate. And for your loue to her, leade Apes in hell.
Kate. Talke not to me, I will go sit and weepe,
Kate. Till I can finde occasion of reuenge.
Bap. Was euer Gentleman thus greeu'd as I?