Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Ber. Nor woo in rime like a blind‑harpers songue,
Ber. Taffata phrases, silken tearmes precise,
Ber. Three‑pil'd Hyperboles, spruce affection;
Ber. Figures pedanticall, these summer flies,
Ber. Haue blowne me full of maggot ostentation.
Ber. I do forsweare them, and I heere protest,
Ber. By this white Gloue (how white the hand God knows)
Ber. Henceforth my woing minde shall be exprest
Ber. In russet yeas, and honest kersie noes.
Ber. And to begin Wench, so God helpe me law,
Ber. My loue to thee is sound, sans cracke or flaw.
Rosa. Rosa.
Rosa. Sans, sans, I pray you.
Ber. Ber.
Ber. Yet I haue a tricke
Ber. Of the old rage: beare with me, I am sicke.
Ber. Ile leaue it by degrees: soft, let vs see,
Ber. Write Lord haue mercie on vs, on those three,
Ber. They are infected, in their hearts it lies:
Ber. They haue the plague, and caught it of your eyes: