Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Laer. How now? what noise is that?
Laer. Oh heate drie vp my Braines, teares seuen times salt,
Laer. Burne out the Sence and Vertue of mine eye.
Laer. By Heauen, thy madnesse shall be payed by waight,
Laer. Till our Scale turnes the beame. Oh Rose of May,
Laer. Deere Maid, kinde Sister, sweet Ophelia:
Laer. Oh Heauens, is't possible, a yong Maids wits,
Laer. Should be as mortall as an old mans life?
Laer. Nature is fine in Loue, and where 'tis fine,
Laer. It sends some precious instance of it selfe
Laer. After the thing it loues.
Ophe. Ophe.
Ophe. They bore him Bare fac'd on the Beer,
Ophe. Hey non nony, nony, hey nony:
Ophe. And on his graue raines many a teare,
Ophe. Fare you well my Doue.
Laer. Laer.
Laer. Had'st thou thy wits, and did'st perswade Re
Laer. uenge, it could not moue thus.