Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Nur. And from my soule too,
Nur. Or else beshrew them both.
Iul. Iul.
Iul. Amen.
Nur. Nur.
Nur. What?
Iul. Well, thou hast comforted me marue'lous much,
Iul. Go in, and tell my Lady I am gone,
Iul. Hauing displeas'd my Father, to Lawrence Cell,
Iul. To make confession, and to be absolu'd.
Nur. Marrie I will, and this is wisely done.
Iul. Auncient damnation, O most wicked fiend!
Iul. It is more sin to wish me thus forsworne,
Iul. Or to dispraise my Lord with that same tongue
Iul. Which she hath prais'd him with aboue compare,
Iul. So many thousand times? Go Counsellor,
Iul. Thou and my bosome henchforth shall be twaine: