Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Corio. Who bow'd but in my Stirrop, bend like his
Corio. That hath receiu'd an Almes. I will not doo't,
Corio. Least I surcease to honor mine owne truth,
Corio. And by my Bodies action, teach my Minde
Corio. A most inherent Basenesse
Volum. Volum.
Volum. At thy choice then:
Volum. To begge of thee, it is my more dis‑honor,
Volum. Then thou of them. Come all to ruine, let
Volum. Thy Mother rather feele thy Pride, then feare
Volum. Thy dangerous Stoutnesse: for I mocke at death
Volum. With as bigge heart as thou. Do as thou list,
Volum. Thy Valiantnesse was mine, thou suck'st it from me:
Volum. But owe thy Pride thy selfe.
Corio. Corio.
Corio. Pray be content:
Corio. Mother, I am going to the Market place:
Corio. Chide me no more. Ile Mountebanke their Loues,
Corio. Cogge their Hearts from them, and come home belou'd
Corio. Of all the Trades in Rome. Looke, I am going: