Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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M. M.
M. Alacke the day, shee's dead, shee's dead, shee's dead.
Fa. Fa.
Fa. Ha? Let me see her: out alas shee's cold,
Fa. Her blood is setled and her ioynts are stiffe:
Fa. Life and these lips haue long bene sep erated:
Fa. Death lies on her like an vntimely frost
Fa. Vpon the swetest flower of all the field.
Nur. Nur.
Nur. O Lamentable day!
Mo. Mo.
Mo. O wofull time.
Fa. Death that hath tane her hence to make me waile,
Fa. Ties vp my tongue, and will not let me speake.
Fa. Enter Frier and the Countie.
Fri. Fri.
Fri. Come, is the Bride ready to go to Church?
Fa. Ready to go, but neuer to returne.