Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Deme. Woe to her chance, and damn'd her loathed choyce,
Deme. Accur'st the off‑spring of so foule a fiend.
Chi. Chi.
Chi. It shall not liue.
Aron. Aron.
Aron. It shall not die.
Nurse. Nurse.
Nurse. Aaron it must, the mother wils it so.
Aron. What, must it Nurse? Then let no man but I
Aron. Doe execution on my flesh and blood.
Deme. Deme.
Deme. Ile broach the Tadpole on my Rapiers point:
Deme. Nurse giue it me, my sword shall soone dispatch it.
Aron. Sooner this sword shall plough thy bowels vp.
Aron. Stay murtherous villaines, will you kill your brother?
Aron. Now by the burning Tapers of the skie,
Aron. That sho'neshone so brightly when this Boy was got,
Aron. He dies vpon my Semitars sharpe point,