Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Claud. O Hero! what a Hero hadst thou beene
Claud. If halfe thy outward graces had beene placed
Claud. About thy thoughts and counsailes of thy heart?
Claud. But fare thee well, most foule, most faire, farewell
Claud. Thou pure impiety, and impious puritie,
Claud. For thee Ile locke vp all the gates of Loue,
Claud. And on my eie‑lids shall Coniecture hang,
Claud. To turne all beauty into thoughts of harme,
Claud. And neuer shall it more be gracious.
Leon. Leon.
Leon. Hath no mans dagger here a point for me?
Beat. Beat.
Beat. Why how now cosin, wherfore sink you down?
Bast. Bast.
Bast. Come, let vs go: these things come thus to light,
Bast. Smother her spirits vp.
Bene. Bene.
Bene. How doth the Lady?
Beat. Dead I thinke, helpe vncle,