Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Grat. They loose it that doe buy it with much care,
Grat. Beleeue me you are maruellously chang'd.
Ant. Ant.
Ant. I hold the world but as the world Gratiano,
Ant. A stage, where euery man must play a part,
Ant. And mine a sad one.
Grati. Grati.
Grati. Let me play the foole,
Grati. With mirth and laughter let old wrinckles come,
Grati. And let my Liuer rather heate with wine,
Grati. Then my heart coole with mortifying grones.
Grati. Why should a man whose bloud is warme within,
Grati. Sit like his Grandsire, cut in Alablaster?
Grati. Sleepe when he wakes? and creep into the Iaundies
Grati. By
Grati. The Merchant of Venice.
Grati. By being peeuish? I tell thee what Anthonio,
Grati. I loue thee, and it is my loue that speakes:
Grati. There are a sort of men, whose visages
Grati. Do creame and mantle like a standing pond,