Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Con. And though thou now confesse thou didst but iest
Con. With my vext spirits, I cannot take a Truce,
Con. But they will quake and tremble all this day.
Con. What dost thou meane by shaking of thy head?
Con. Why dost thou looke so sadly on my sonne?
Con. What meanes that hand vpon that breast of thine?
Con. Why holdes thine eie that lamentable rhewme,
Con. Like a proud riuer peering ore his bounds?
Con. Be these sad signes confirmers of thy words?
Con. Then speake againe, not all thy former tale,
Con. But this one word, whether thy tale be true.
Sal. Sal.
Sal. As true as I beleeue you thinke them false,
Sal. That giue you cause to proue my saying true.
Con. Con.
Con. Oh if thou teach me to beleeue this sorrow,
Con. Teach thou this sorrow, how to make me dye,
Con. And let beleefe, and life encounter so,
Con. As doth the furie of two desperate men,
Con. Which in the very meeting fall, and dye.