Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Paul. So like you, 'tis the worse. Behold (my Lords)
Paul. Although the Print be little, the whole Matter
Paul. And Coppy of the Father: (Eye, Nose, Lippe,
Paul. The trick of’s Frowne, his Fore‑head, nay, the Valley,
Paul. The pretty dimples of his Chin, and Cheeke; his Smiles:
Paul. The very Mold, and frame of Hand, Nayle, Finger.)
Paul. And thou good Goddesse Nature, which hast made it
Paul. So like to him that got it, if thou hast
Paul. The ordering of the Mind too, 'mongst all Colours
Paul. No Yellow in’t, least she suspect, as he do’s,
Paul. Her Children, not her Husbands.
Leo. Leo.
Leo. A grosse Hagge:
Leo. And Lozell, thou art worthy to be hang’d,
Leo. That wilt not stay her Tongue.
Antig. Antig.
Antig. Hang all the Husbands
Antig. That cannot doe that Feat, you’le leaue your selfe
Antig. Hardly one Subiect.