Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Queen. Clambring to hang; an enuious sliuer broke,
Queen. When downe the weedy Trophies, and her selfe,
Queen. Fell in the weeping Brooke, her cloathes spred wide,
Queen. And Mermaid‑like, a while they bore her vp,
Queen. Which time she chaunted snatches of old tunes,
Queen. As one incapable of her owne distresse,
Queen. Or like a creature Natiue, and indued
Queen. Vnto that Element: but long it could not be,
Queen. Till that her garments, heauy with her drinke,
Queen. Pul'd the poore wretch from her melodious buy,
Queen. To muddy death.
Laer. Laer.
Laer. Alas then, is she drown'd?
Queen. Queen.
Queen. Drown'd, drown'd.
Laer. Too much of water hast thou poore Ophelia,
Laer. And therefore I forbid my teares: but yet
Laer. It is our tricke, Nature her custome holds,
Laer. Let shame say what it will; when these are gone