Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Pan. sticke where they are throwne.
Cres. Cres.
Cres. Boldnesse comes to mee now, and brings mee
Cres. heart: Prince Troylus, I haue lou'd you night and day, for
Cres. many weary moneths.
Troy. Troy.
Troy. Why was my Cressid then so hard to win?
Cres. Hard to seeme won: but I was won my Lord
Cres. With the first glance; that euer pardon me,
Cres. If I confesse much you will play the tyrant:
Cres. I loue you now, but not till now so much
Cres. But I might maister it; infaith I lye:
Cres. My thoughts were like vnbrideled children grow
Cres. Too head‑strong for their mother: see we fooles,
Cres. Why haue I blab'd: who shall be true to vs
Cres. When we are so vnsecret to our selues?
Cres. But though I lou'd you well, I woed you not,
Cres. And yet good faith I wisht my selfe a man;
Cres. Or that we women had mens priuiledge