Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Pol. Yet Nature is made better by no meane,
Pol. But Nature makes that Meane: so ouer that Art,
Pol. (Which you say addes to Nature) is an Art
Pol. That Nature makes: you see (sweet Maid) we marry
Pol. A gentler Sien, to the wildest Stocke,
Pol. And make conceyue a barke of baser kinde
Pol. By bud of Nobler race. This is an Art
Pol. Which do’s mend Nature: change it rather, but
Pol. The Art it selfe, is Nature.
Perd. Perd.
Perd. So it is.
Pol. Pol.
Pol. Then make you Garden rich in Gilly’ vors,
Pol. And do not call them bastards.
Perd. Ile not put
Perd. The Dible in earth, to set one slip of them:
Perd. No more then were I painted, I would wish
Perd. This youth should say 'twer well: and onely therefore
Perd. Desire to breed by me. Here’s flowres for you: