Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Clau. Clau.
Clau. Let me know the point.
Isa. Isa.
Isa. Oh, I do feare thee Claudio, and I quake,
Isa. Least thou a feauorous life shouldst entertaine,
Isa. And six or seuen winters more respect
Isa. Then a perpetuall Honor. Dar'st thou die?
Isa. The sence of death is most in apprehension,
Isa. And the poore Beetle that we treade vpon
Isa. In corporall sufferance, finds a pang as great,
Isa. As when a Giant dies.
Cla. Cla.
Cla. Why giue you me this shame?
Cla. Thinke you I can a resolution fetch
Cla. From flowrie tendernesse? If I must die,
Cla. I will encounter darknesse as a bride,
Cla. And hugge it in mine armes.
Isa. There spake my brother: there my fathers graue
Isa. Did vtter forth a voice. Yes, thou must die: