Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Pol. Shepherdesse,
Pol. (A faire one are you:) well you fit our ages
Pol. With flowres of Winter.
Perd. Perd.
Perd. Sir, the yeare growing ancient,
Perd. Not yet on summers death, nor on the birth
Perd. Of trembling winter, the fayrest flowres o’th season
Perd. Are our Carnations, and streak’d Gilly‑vors,
Perd. (Which some call Natures bastards) of that kind
Perd. Our rusticke Gardens barren, and I care not
Perd. To get slips of them.
Pol. Pol.
Pol. Wherefore (gentle Maiden)
Pol. Do you neglect them.
Perd. For I haue heard it said,
Perd. There is an Art, which in their pidenesse shares
Perd. With great creating‑Nature.
Pol. Say there be: