Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Iul. Least in this marriage he should be dishonour'd,
Iul. Because he married me before to Romeo?
Iul. I feare it is, and yet me thinkes it should not,
Iul. For he hath still beene tried a holy man.
Iul. How, if when I am laid into the Tombe,
Iul. I wake before the time that Romeo
Iul. Come to redeeme me? There's a fearefull point:
Iul. Shall I not then be stifled in the Vault?
Iul. To whose foule mouth no healthsome ayre breaths in,
Iul. And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes.
Iul. Or if I liue, is it not very like,
Iul. The horrible conceit of death and night,
Iul. Together with the terror of the place,
Iul. As in a Vaulte, an ancient receptacle,
Iul. Where for these many hundred yeeres the bones
Iul. Of all my buried Auncestors are packt,
Iul. Where bloody Tybalt, yet but greene in earth,
Iul. Lies festring in his shrow'd, where as they say,
Iul. At some houres in the night, Spirits resort:
Iul. Alacke, alacke, is it not like that I