Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Troy. Makes me affraid.
Cres. Cres.
Cres. O heauens, you loue me not!
Troy. Troy.
Troy. Dye I a villaine then:
Troy. In this I doe not call your faith in question
Troy. So mainely as my merit: I cannot sing,
Troy. Nor heele the high Lauolt; nor sweeten talke;
Troy. Nor play at subtill games; faire vertues all;
Troy. To
Troy. Troylus and Cressida.
Troy. To which the Grecians are most prompt and pregnant:
Troy. But I can tell that in each grace of these,
Troy. There Iurkes a still and dumb‑discoursiue diuell,
Troy. That tempts most cunningly: but be not tempted.
Cres. Doe you thinke I will:
Troy. No, but something may be done that we wil not:
Troy. And sometimes we are diuels to our selues,