Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Corio. Corio.
Corio. Nay, I prythee woman.
Vol. Vol.
Vol. Now the Red Pestilence strike al Trades in Rome,
Vol. And Occupations perish.
Corio. What, what, what:
Corio. I shall be lou'd when I am lack'd. Nay Mother,
Corio. Resume that Spirit, when you were wont to say,
Corio. If you had beene the Wife of Hercules,
Corio. Six of his Labours youl'd haue done, and sau'd
Corio. Your Husband so much swet. Cominius,
Corio. Droope not, Adieu: Farewell my Wife, my Mother,
Corio. Ile do well yet. Thou old and true Menenius,
Corio. Thy teares are salter then a yonger mans,
Corio. And venomous to thine eyes. My (sometime) Generall,
Corio. I haue seene the Sterne, and thou hast oft beheld
Corio. Heart‑hardning spectacles. Tell these sad women,
Corio. 'Tis fond to waile ineuitable strokes,
Corio. As 'tis to laugh at 'em. My Mother, you wot well