Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Pol. Your Guest then, Madame:
Pol. To be your Prisoner, should import offending;
Pol. Which is for me, lesse easie to commit,
Pol. Then you to punish.
Her. Her.
Her. Not your Gaoler then,
Her. But your kind Hostesse. Come, Ile question you
Her. Of my Lords Tricks, and yours, when you were Boyes:
Her. You were pretty Lordings then?
Pol. Pol.
Pol. We were (faire Queene)
Pol. Two Lads, that thought there was no more behind,
Pol. But such a day to morrow, as to day,
Pol. And to be Boy eternall.
Her. Was not my Lord
Her. The veryer Wag o’th’two?
Pol. We were as twyn’d Lambs, that did frisk i’th’Sun,
Pol. And bleat the one at th’other: what we chang’d,