Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Aron. Set fire on Barnes and Haystackes in the night,
Aron. And bid the Owners quench them with the teares:
Aron. Oft haue I dig'd vp dead men from their graues,
Aron. And set them vpright at their deere Friends doore,
Aron. Euen when their sorrowes almost was forgot,
Aron. And on their skinnes, as on the Barke of Trees,
Aron. Haue with my knife carued in Romaine Letters,
Aron. Let not your sorrow die, though I am dead.
Aron. Tut, I haue done a thousand dreadfull things
Aron. As willingly, as one would kill a Fly,
Aron. And nothing greeues me hartily indeede,
Aron. But that I cannot doe ten thousand more.
Luci. Luci.
Luci. Bring downe the diuell, for he must not die
Luci. So sweet a death as hanging presently.
Aron. Aron.
Aron. If there be diuels, would I were a deuill,
Aron. To liue and burne in euerlasting fire,
Aron. So I might haue your company in hell,
Aron. But