Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Old. Cou. You loue my sonne, inuention is asham'd
Old. Cou. Against the proclamation of thy passion
Old. Cou. To say thou doost not: therefore tell me true,
Old. Cou. But tell me then 'tis so, for looke, thy cheekes
Old. Cou. Confesse it 'ton tooth to th' other, and thine eies
Old. Cou. See it so grosely showne in thy behauiours,
Old. Cou. That in their kinde they speake it, onely sinne
Old. Cou. And hellish obstinacie tye thy tongue
Old. Cou. That truth should be suspected, speake, ist so?
Old. Cou. If it be so, you haue wound a goodly clewe:
Old. Cou. If it be not, forsweare't how ere I charge thee,
Old. Cou. As heauen shall worke in me for thine auaile
Old. Cou. To tell me truelie.
Hell. Hell.
Hell. Good Madam pardon me.
Cou. Cou.
Cou. Do you loue my Sonne?
Hell. Your pardon noble Mistris.