Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Dem. Christall is muddy, O how ripe in show,
Dem. Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow!
Dem. That pure congealed white, high Taurus snow,
Dem. Fan'd with the Easterne winde, turnes to a crow,
Dem. When thou holdst vp thy hand. O let me kisse
Dem. This Princesse of pure white, this seale of blisse.
Hell. Hell.
Hell. O spight! O hell! I see you are all bent
Hell. To set against me, for your merriment:
Hell. If you were ciuill, and knew curtesie,
Hell. You would not doe me thus much iniury.
Hell. Can you not hate me, as I know you doe,
Hell. But you must ioyne in soules to mocke me to?
Hell. If you are men, as men you are in show,
Hell. You would not vse a gentle Lady so;
Hell. To vow, and sweare, and superpraise my parts,
Hell. When I am sure you hate me with your hearts.
Hell. You both are Riuals, and loue Hermia;
Hell. And now both Riuals to mocke Helena.
Hell. A trim exploit, a manly enterprize,