Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Cym. Of you their Captiues, which our selfe haue granted,
Cym. So thinke of your estate.
Luc. Luc.
Luc. Consider Sir, the chance of Warre, the day
Luc. Was yours by accident: had it gone with vs,
Luc. We should not when the blood was cool, haue threatend
Luc. Our Prisoners with the Sword. But since the Gods
Luc. Will haue it thus, that nothing but our liues
Luc. May be call'd ransome, let it come: Sufficeth,
Luc. A Roman, with a Romans heart can suffer:
Luc. Augustus liues to thinke on't: and so much
Luc. For my peculiar care. This one thing onely
Luc. I will entreate, my Boy (a Britaine borne)
Luc. Let him be ransom'd: Neuer Master had
Luc. A Page so kinde, so duteous, diligent,
Luc. So tender ouer his occasions, true,
Luc. So feate, so Nurse‑like: let his vertue ioyne
Luc. With my request, which Ile make bold your Highnesse
Luc. Cannot deny: he hath done no Britaine harme,
Luc. Though he haue seru'd a Roman. Saue him (Sir)