Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Corio. A most inherent Basenesse
Volum. Volum.
Volum. At thy choice then:
Volum. To begge of thee, it is my more dis‑honor,
Volum. Then thou of them. Come all to ruine, let
Volum. Thy Mother rather feele thy Pride, then feare
Volum. Thy dangerous Stoutnesse: for I mocke at death
Volum. With as bigge heart as thou. Do as thou list,
Volum. Thy Valiantnesse was mine, thou suck'st it from me:
Volum. But owe thy Pride thy selfe.
Corio. Corio.
Corio. Pray be content:
Corio. Mother, I am going to the Market place:
Corio. Chide me no more. Ile Mountebanke their Loues,
Corio. Cogge their Hearts from them, and come home belou'd
Corio. Of all the Trades in Rome. Looke, I am going:
Corio. Commend me to my Wife, Ile returne Consull,
Corio. Or neuer trust to what my Tongue can do
Corio. I'th way of Flattery further.