Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Lieu. Who with their drowsie, slow, and flagging wings
Lieu. Cleape dead‑mens graues, and from their misty Iawes,
Lieu. Breath foule contagious darknesse in the ayre:
Lieu. Therefore bring forth the Souldiers of our prize,
Lieu. For whilst our Pinnace Anchors in the Downes,
Lieu. Heere shall they make theit their ransome on the sand,
Lieu. Or with their blood staine this discoloured shore.
Lieu. Maister, this Prisoner freely giue I thee,
Lieu. And thou that art his Mate, make boote of this:
Lieu. The other Walter Whitmore is thy share.
1. Gent. 1. Gent.
1. Gent. What is my ransome Master, let me know.
Ma. Ma.
Ma. A thousand Crownes, or else lay down your head
Mate. Mate.
Mate. And so much shall you giue, or off goes yours.
Lieu. Lieu.
Lieu. What thinke you much to pay 2000. Crownes,
Lieu. And beare the name and port of Gentlemen?
Lieu. Cut both the Villaines throats, for dy you shall: