Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Pyr. Thy mantle good; what staind with blood!
Pyr. Approch you Furies fell:
Pyr. O Fates! come, come: Cut thred and thrum,
Pyr. Quaile, crush, conclude, and quell.
Du. Du.
Du. This passion, and the death of a deare friend,
Du. Would go neere to make a man looke sad.
Dut. Dut.
Dut. Beshrew my heart, but I pittie the man.
Pir. Pir.
Pir. O wherefore Nature, did'st thou Lions frame?
Pir. Since Lion vilde hath heere deflour'd my deere:
Pir. Which is: no, no, which was the fairest Dame
Pir. That liu'd, that lou'd, that lik'd, that look'd with cheere.
Pir. Come teares, confound: Out sword, and wound
Pir. The pap of Piramus:
Pir. I, that left pap, where heart doth hop;
Pir. Thus dye I, thus, thus, thus.
Pir. Now am I dead, now am I fled, my soule is in the sky,
Pir. Tongue lose thy light, Moone take thy flight,