Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Imo. Let me heare no more.
Iach. Iach.
Iach. O deerest Soule: your Cause doth strike my hart
Iach. With pitty, that doth make me sicke. A Lady
Iach. So faire, and fasten'd to an Emperie
Iach. Would make the great'st King double, to be partner'd
Iach. With Tomboyes hyr'd, with that selfe exhibition
Iach. Which your owne Coffers yeeld: with diseas'd ventures
Iach. That play with all Infirmities for Gold,
Iach. Which rottennesse can lend Nature. Such boyl'd stuffe
Iach. As well might poyson Poyson. Be reueng'd,
Iach. Or she that bore you, was no Queene, and you
Iach. Recoyle from your great Stocke.
Imo. Imo.
Imo. Reueng'd:
Imo. How should I be reueng'd? If this be true,
Imo. (As I haue such a Heart, that both mine eares
Imo. Must not in haste abuse) if it be true,
Imo. How should I be reueng'd?