Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Des. She was in loue: and he she lou'd prou'd mad,
Des. And did forsake her. She had a Song of Willough,
Des. An old thing 'twas: but it express'd her Fortune,
Des. And she dy'd singing it. That Song to night,
Des. Will not go from my mind: I haue much to do,
Des. But to go hang my head all at one side
Des. And sing it like poore Brabarie: prythee dispatch.
Æmi. Æmi.
Æmi. Shall I go fetch your Night‑gowne?
Des. Des.
Des. No, vn‑pin me here,
Des. This Lodouico is a proper man.
Æmil. Æmil.
Æmil. A very handsome man.
Des. He speakes well.
Æmil. I know a Lady in Venice would haue walk'd
Æmil. barefoot to Palestine for a touch of his nether lip.