Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Bra. I would keepe from thee. For your sake (Iewell)
Bra. I am glad at soule, I haue no other Child;
Bra. For thy escape would teach me Tirranie
Bra. To hang clogges on them. I haue done my Lord.
Duke. Duke.
Duke. Let me speake like your selfe:
Duke. And lay a Sentence,
Duke. Which as a grise, or step may helpe these Louers.
Duke. When remedies are past, the griefes are ended
Duke. By seeing the worst, which late on hopes depended.
Duke. To mourne a Mischeefe that is past and gon,
Duke. Is the next way to draw new mischiefe on.
Duke. What cannot be preseru'd, when Fortune takes:
Duke. Patience, her Iniury a mock'ry makes.
Duke. The rob'd that smiles, steales something from the Thiefe,
Duke. He robs himselfe, that spends a bootelesse griefe.
Bra. Bra.
Bra. So let the Turke of Cyprus vs beguile,
Bra. We loose it not so long as we can smile:
Bra. He beares the Sentence well, that nothing beares,