Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Deme. That he hath breath'd in my dishonour heere.
Chi. Chi.
Chi. For that I am prepar'd, and full resolu'd,
Chi. Foule spoken Coward,
Chi. That thundrest with thy tongue,
Chi. And with thy weapon nothing dar'st performe.
Aron. Aron.
Aron. A way I say.
Aron. Now by the Gods that warlike Gothes adore,
Aron. This pretty brabble will vndoo vs all:
Aron. Why Lords, and thinke you not how dangerous
Aron. It is to set vpon a Princes right?
Aron. What is Lauinia then become so loose,
Aron. Or Bassianus so degenerate,
Aron. That for her loue such quarrels may be broacht,
Aron. Without controulement, Iustice, or reuenge?
Aron. Young Lords beware, and should the Empresse know,
Aron. This discord ground, the musicke would not please.
Chi. I care not I, knew she and all the world,