Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Du. This passion, and the death of a deare friend,
Du. Would go neere to make a man looke sad.
Dut. Dut.
Dut. Beshrew my heart, but I pittie the man.
Pir. Pir.
Pir. O wherefore Nature, did'st thou Lions frame?
Pir. Since Lion vilde hath heere deflour'd my deere:
Pir. Which is: no, no, which was the fairest Dame
Pir. That liu'd, that lou'd, that lik'd, that look'd with cheere.
Pir. Come teares, confound: Out sword, and wound
Pir. The pap of Piramus:
Pir. I, that left pap, where heart doth hop;
Pir. Thus dye I, thus, thus, thus.
Pir. Now am I dead, now am I fled, my soule is in the sky,
Pir. Tongue lose thy light, Moone take thy flight,
Pir. Now dye, dye, dye, dye, dye.
Dem. Dem.
Dem. No Die, but an ace for him; for he is but one.
Lis. Lis.
Lis. Lesse then an ace man. For he is dead, he is no