Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Ber. Loues tongue proues dainty, Bachus grosse in taste,
Ber. For Valour, is not Loue a Hercules?
Ber. Still climing trees in the Hesporides.
Ber. Subtill as Sphinx, as sweet and musicall,
Ber. As bright Apollo's Lute, strung with his haire.
Ber. And when Loue speakes, the voyce of all the Gods,
Ber. Make heauen drowsie with the harmonie.
Ber. Neuer durst Poet touch a pen to write,
Ber. Vntill his Inke were tempred with Loues sighes:
Ber. O then his lines would rauish sauage eares,
Ber. And plant in Tyrants milde humilitie.
Ber. From womens eyes this doctrine I deriue.
Ber. They sparcle still the right promethean fire,
Ber. They are the Bookes, the Arts, the Achademes,
Ber. That shew, containe, and nourish all the world.
Ber. Else none at all in ought proues excellent.
Ber. Then fooles you were these women to forsweare:
Ber. Or keeping what is sworne, you will proue fooles,
Ber. For Wisedomes sake, a word that all men loue:
Ber. Or for Loues sake, a word that loues all men.