Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Gra. Well, keepe me company but two yeares mo,
Gra. Thou shalt not know the sound of thine owne tongue.
Ant. Ant.
Ant. Far you well, Ile grow a talker for this geare.
Gra. Gra.
Gra. Thankes ifaith, for silence is onely commendable
Gra. In a neats tongue dri'd, and a maid not vendible.
Gra. Exit.
Ant. It is that any thing now.
Bas. Bas.
Bas. Gratiano speakes an infinite deale of nothing,
Bas. more then any man in all Venice, his reasons are two
Bas. graines of wheate hid in two bushels of chaffe: you shall
Bas. seeke all day ere you finde them, & when you haue them
Bas. they are not worth the search.
An. An.
An. Well: tel me now, what Lady is the same
An. To whom you swore a secret Pilgrimage
An. That you to day promis'd to tel me of?