Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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E. Dro. the prophesie like the Parrat, beware the ropes end.
Anti. Anti.
Anti. Wilt thou still talke?
Anti. Beats Dro.
Curt. Curt.
Curt. How say you now? Is not your husband mad?
Adri. Adri.
Adri. His inciuility confirmes no lesse:
Adri. Good Doctor Pinch, you are a Coniurer,
Adri. Establish him in his true sence againe,
Adri. And I will please you what you will demand.
Luc. Luc.
Luc. Alas how fiery, and how sharpe he lookes.
Cur. Cur.
Cur. Marke, how he trembles in his extasie.
Pinch. Pinch.
Pinch. Giue me your hand, and let mee feele your
Pinch. pulse.
Ant. Ant.
Ant. There is my hand, and let it feele your eare.