Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Imo. Is sorer, then to lye for Neede: and Falshood
Imo. Is worse in Kings, then Beggers. My deere Lord,
Imo. Thou art one o'th'false Ones: Now I thinke on thee,
Imo. My hunger's gone; but eE3Auen before, I was
Imo. At point to sinke, for Food. But what is this?
Imo. Heere is a path too't: 'tis some sauage hold:
Imo. I were best not call; I dare not call: yet Famine
Imo. Ere cleane it o're‑throw Nature, makes it valiant.
Imo. Plentie, and Peace breeds Cowards: Hardnesse euer
Imo. Of Hardinesse is Mother. Hoa? who's heere?
Imo. If any thing that's ciuill, speake: if sauage,
Imo. Take,
Imo. The Tragedy of Cymbeline.
Imo. Take, or lend. Hoa? No answer? Then Ile enter.
Imo. Best draw my Sword; and if mine Enemy
Imo. But feare the Sword like me, hee'l scarsely looke on't.
Imo. Such a Foe, good Heauens.
Imo. Exit.
Imo. Scena Septima.
Imo. [Act 3, Scene 6 cont.]