Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Ros. Then good my Leige, mistake me not so much,
Ros. To thinke my pouertie is treacherous.
Cel. Cel.
Cel. Deere Soueraigne heare me speake.
Duk. Duk.
Duk. I Celia, we staid her for your sake,
Duk. Else had she with her Father rang'd along.
Cel. I did not then intreat to haue her stay,
Cel. It was your pleasure, and your owne remorse,
Cel. I was too yong that time to value her,
Cel. But now I know her: if she be a Traitor,
Cel. Why so am I: we still haue slept together,
Cel. Rose at an instant, learn'd, plaid, eate together,
Cel. And wheresoere we went, like Iunos Swans,
Cel. Still we went coupled and inseperable.
Duk. She is too subtile for thee, and her smoothnes;
Duk. Her verie silence, and per patience,
Duk. Speake to the people, and they pittie her: