Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Isab. For euery pelting petty Officer
Isab. Would vse his heauen for thunder;
Isab. Nothing but thunder: Mercifull heauen,
Isab. Thou rather with thy sharpe and sulpherous bolt
Isab. Splits the vn‑wedgable and gnarled Oke,
Isab. Then the soft Mertill: But man, proud man,
Isab. Drest in a little briefe authoritie,
Isab. Most ignorant of what he's most assur'd,
Isab. (His glassie Essence) like an angry Ape
Isab. Plaies such phantastique tricks before high heauen,
Isab. As makes the Angels weepe: who with our spleenes,
Isab. Would all themselues laugh mortall.
Luc. Luc.
Luc. Oh, to him, to him wench: he will relent,
Luc. Hee's comming: I perceiue't.
Pro. Pro.
Pro. Pray heauen she win him.
Isab. Isab.
Isab. We cannot weigh our brother with our selfe,
Isab. Great men may iest with Saints: tis wit in them,