Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Host. Host.
Host. By my troth he'l yeeld the Crow a pudding one of these dayes: the King has kild his heart. Good Hus- band come home presently.
Host. Exit
Bar. Bar.
Bar. Come, shall I make you two friends. Wee must to France together: why the diuel should we keep kniues to cut one anothers throats?
Pist. Pist.
Pist. Let floods ore-swell, and fiends for food howle on.
Nym. Nym.
Nym. You'l pay me the eight shillings I won of you at Betting?
Pist. Base is the Slaue that payes.
Nym. That now I wil haue: that's the humor of it.
Pist. As manhood shal compound: push home.
Pist. Draw
Bard. Bard.
Bard. By this sword, hee that makes the first thrust, Ile kill him: By this sword, I wil.
Pi. Pi.
Pi. Sword is an Oath, & Oaths must haue their course