Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Post. The loathnesse to depart, would grow: Adieu.
Imo. Imo.
Imo. Nay, stay a little:
Imo. Were you but riding forth to ayre your selfe,
Imo. Such parting were too petty. Looke heere (Loue)
Imo. This Diamond was my Mothers; take it (Heart)
Imo. But keepe it till you woo another Wife,
Imo. When Imogen is dead.
Post. Post.
Post. How, how? Another?
Post. You gentle Gods, giue me but this I haue,
Post. And seare vp my embracements from a next,
Post. With bonds of death. Remaine, remaine thou heere,
Post. While sense can keepe it on: And sweetest, fairest,
Post. As I (my poore selfe) did exchange for you
Post. To your so infinite losse; so in our trifles
Post. I still winne of you. For my sake weare this,
Post. It is a Manacle of Loue, Ile place it
Post. Vpon this fayrest Prisoner.