Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Eno. Whom nere the word of no woman hard speake,
Eno. Being barber'd ten times o're, goes to the Feast;
Eno. And for his ordinary, paies his heart,
Eno. For what his eyes eate onely.
Agri. Agri.
Agri. Royall Wench:
Agri. She made great Cæsar lay his Sword to bed,
Agri. He ploughed her, and she cropt.
Eno. Eno.
Eno. I saw her once
Eno. Hop forty Paces through the publicke streete,
Eno. And hauing lost her breath, she spoke, and panted,
Eno. That she did make defect, perfection,
Eno. And breathlesse powre breath forth.
Mece. Mece.
Mece. Now Anthony, must leaue her vtterly.
Eno. Neuer he will not:
Eno. Age cannot wither her, nor custome stale
Eno. Her infinite variety: other women cloy