Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Pol. Your heart is full of something, that do’s take
Pol. Your minde from feasting. Sooth, when I was yong,
Pol. And handed loue, as you do; I was wont
Pol. To load my Shee with knackes: I would haue ransackt
Pol. The Pedlers silken Treasury, and haue powr’d it
Pol. To her acceptance: you haue let him go,
Pol. And nothing marted with him. If your Lasse
Pol. Interpretation should abuse, and call this
Pol. Your lacke of loue, or bounty, you were straited
Pol. For a reply at least, if you make a care
Pol. Of happie holding her.
Flo. Flo.
Flo. Old Sir, I know
Flo. She prizes not such trifles as these are:
Flo. The gifts she lookes from me, are packt and lockt
Flo. Vp in my heart, which I haue giuen already,
Flo. But not deliuer’d. O heare me breath my life
Flo. Before this ancient Sir, whom (it should seeme)
Flo. Hath sometime lou’d: I take thy hand, this hand,
Flo. As soft as Doues‑downe, and as white as it,