Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Pis. Mine and your Mistris: Oh my Lord Posthumus,
Pis. You ne're kill'd Imogen till now: helpe, helpe,
Pis. Mine honour'd Lady.
Cym. Cym.
Cym. Does the world go round?
Posth. Posth.
Posth. How comes these staggers on mee?
Pisa. Pisa.
Pisa. Wake my Mistris.
Cym. If this be so, the Gods do meane to strike me
Cym. To death, with mortall ioy.
Pisa. How fares my Mistris?
Imo. Imo.
Imo. Oh get thee from my sight,
Imo. Thou gau'st me poyson: dangerous Fellow hence,
Imo. Breath not where Princes are.
Cym. The tune of Imogen.