Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Dem. Cosen a word, where is your husband?
Dem. If I do dreame, would all my wealth would wake me;
Dem. If I doe wake, some Planet strike me downe,
Dem. That I may slumber in eternall sleepe.
Dem. Speake gentle Neece, what sterne vngentle hands
Dem. Hath lopt, and hew'd, and made thy body bare
Dem. Of her two branches, those sweet Ornaments
Dem. Whose circkling shadowes, Kings haue sought to sleep in
Dem. And might not gaine so great a happines
Dem. As halfe thy Loue: Why doost not speake to me?
Dem. Alas, a Crimson riuer of warme blood,
Dem. Like to a bubling fountaine stir'd with winde,
Dem. Doth rise and fall betweene thy Rosed lips,
Dem. Comming and going with thy hony breath.
Dem. But sure some Tereus hath defloured thee,
Dem. And least thou should'st detect them, cut thy tongue.
Dem. Ah, now thou turn'st away thy face for shame:
Dem. And notwithstanding all this losse of blood,
Dem. As from a Conduit with their issuing Spouts,
Dem. Yet doe thy cheekes looke red as Titans face,