Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Aron. That touches this my first borne sonne and heire.
Aron. I tell you younglings, not Enceladus
Aron. With all his threatning band of Typhons broode,
Aron. Nor great Alcides, nor the God of warre,
Aron. Shall ceaze this prey out of his fathers hands:
Aron. What, what, ye sanguine shallow harted Boyes,
Aron. Ye white‑limb'd walls, ye Ale‑house painted signes,
Aron. Cole‑blacke is better then another hue,
Aron. In that it scornes to beare another hue:
Aron. For all the water in the Ocean,
Aron. Can neuer turne the Swans blacke legs to white,
Aron. Although she laue them hourely in the flood:
Aron. Tell the Empresse from me, I am of age
Aron. To keepe mine owne, excuse it how she can.
Deme. Deme.
Deme. Wilt thou betray thy noble mistris thus?
Aron. Aron.
Aron. My mistris is my mistris: this my selfe,
Aron. The vigour, and the picture of my youth:
Aron. This, before all the world do I preferre,