Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Hero. If speaking, why a vane blowne with all windes:
Hero. If silent, why a blocke moued with none.
Hero. So turnes she euery man the wrong side out,
Hero. And neuer giues to Truth and Vertue, that
Hero. Which simplenesse and merit purchaseth.
Vrsu. Vrsu.
Vrsu. Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable.
Hero. Hero.
Hero. No, not to be so odde, and from all fashions,
Hero. As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable,
Hero. But who dare tell her so? if I should speake,
Hero. She would mocke me into ayre, O she would laugh me
Hero. Out of my selfe, presse me to death with wit,
Hero. Therefore let Benedicke like couered fire,
Hero. Consume away in sighes, waste inwardly:
Hero. It were a better death, to die with mockes,
Hero. Which is as bad as die with tickling.
Vrsu. Yet tell her of it, heare what shee will say.