Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Ol. Ol.
Ol. Giue me leaue, beseech you: I did send,
Ol. After the last enchantment you did heare,
Ol. A Ring in chace of you. So did I abuse
Ol. My selfe, my seruant, and I feare me you:
Ol. Vnder your hard construction must I sit,
Ol. To force that on you in a shamefull cunning
Ol. Which you knew none of yours. What might you think?
Ol. Haue you not set mine Honor at the stake,
Ol. And baited it with all th'vnmuzled thoughts
Ol. That tyrannous heart can think? To one of your receiuing
Ol. Enough is shewne, a Cipresse, not a bosome,
Ol. Hides my heart: so let me heare you speake.
Vio. Vio.
Vio. I pittie you.
Ol. That's a degree to loue.
Vio. No not a grize: for tis a vulgar proofe
Vio. That verie oft we pitty enemies.