Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Cym. Cym.
Cym. The time is troublesome:
Cym. Wee'l slip you for a season, but our iealousie
Cym. Do's yet depend.
Lord. Lord.
Lord. So please your Maiesty,
Lord. The Romaine Legions, all from Gallia drawne,
Lord. Are landed on your Coast, with a supply
Lord. Of Romaine Gentlemen, by the Senate sent.
Cym. Now for the Counsaile of my Son and Queen,
Cym. I am amaz'd with matter.
Lord. Good my Liege,
Lord. Your preparation can affront no lesse
Lord. Then what you heare of. Come more, for more you're (ready:
Lord. The want is, but to put those Powres in motion,
Lord. That long to moue.
Cym. I thanke you: let's withdraw