Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Sil. Alas (poore Lady) desolate, and left;
Sil. I weepe my selfe to thinke vpon thy words:
Sil. Here youth: there is my purse; I giue thee this
Sil. For thy sweet Mistris sake, because thou lou'st her. Fare (well.
Iul. Iul.
Iul. And she shall thanke you for't, if ere you know (her.
Iul. A vertuous gentlewoman, milde, and beautifull.
Iul. I hope my Masters suit will be but cold,
Iul. Since she respects my Mistris loue so much.
Iul. Alas, how loue can trifle with it selfe:
Iul. Here is her Picture: let me see. I thinke
Iul. If I had such a Tyre, this face of mine
Iul. Were full as louely, as is this of hers;
Iul. And yet the Painter flatter'd her a little,
Iul. Vnlesse I flatter with my selfe too much.
Iul. Her haire is Aburne, mine is perfect Yellow;
Iul. If that be all the difference in his loue,
Iul. Ile get me such a coulour'd Perrywig:
Iul. Her eyes are grey as glasse, and so are mine:
Iul. I, but her fore‑head's low, and mine's as high: