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The Winter's Tale by William Shakespeare
page 79 of 136 (58%)
That neuer meane to part

Perd. Ile sweare for 'em

Pol. This is the prettiest Low-borne Lasse, that euer
Ran on the greene-sord: Nothing she do's, or seemes
But smackes of something greater then her selfe,
Too Noble for this place

Cam. He tels her something
That makes her blood looke on't: Good sooth she is
The Queene of Curds and Creame

Clo. Come on: strike vp

Dorcas. Mopsa must be your Mistris: marry Garlick
to mend her kissing with

Mop. Now in good time

Clo. Not a word, a word, we stand vpon our manners,
Come, strike vp.

Heere a Daunce of Shepheards and Shephearddesses.

Pol. Pray good Shepheard, what faire Swaine is this,
Which dances with your daughter?
Shep. They call him Doricles, and boasts himselfe
To haue a worthy Feeding; but I haue it
Vpon his owne report, and I beleeue it:
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