Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Sal. Which touching but my gentle Vessels side
Sal. Would scatter all her spices on the streame,
Sal. Enrobe the roring waters with my silkes,
Sal. And in a word, but euen now worth this,
Sal. And now worth nothing. Shall I haue the thought
Sal. To thinke on this, and shall I lacke the thought
Sal. That such a thing bechaunc'd would make me sad?
Sal. But tell not me, I know Anthonio
Sal. Is sad to thinke vpon his merchandize.
Anth. Anth.
Anth. Beleeue me no, I thanke my fortune for it,
Anth. My ventures are not in one bottome trusted,
Anth. Nor to one place; nor is my whole estate
Anth. Vpon the fortune of this present yeere:
Anth. Therefore my merchandize makes me not sad.
Sola. Sola.
Sola. Why then you are in loue.
Anth. Fie, fie.