Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
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Cym. Were not in fault, for she was beautifull:
Cym. Mine eares that heare her flattery, nor my heart,
Cym. That thought her like her seeming. It had beene vicious
Cym. To haue mistrusted her: yet (Oh my Daughter)
Cym. That it was folly in me, thou mayst say,
Cym. And proue it in thy feeling. Heauen mend all.
Cym. Enter Lucius, Iachimo, and other Roman prisoners,
Cym. Leonatus behind, and Imogen.
Cym. Thou comm'st not Caius now for Tribute, that
Cym. The Britaines haue rac'd out, though with the losse
Cym. Of many a bold one: whose Kinsmen haue made suite
Cym. That their good soules may be appeas'd, with slaughter
Cym. Of you their Captiues, which our selfe haue granted,
Cym. So thinke of your estate.
Luc. Luc.
Luc. Consider Sir, the chance of Warre, the day
Luc. Was yours by accident: had it gone with vs,
Luc. We should not when the blood was cool, haue threatend
Luc. Our Prisoners with the Sword. But since the Gods
Luc. Will haue it thus, that nothing but our liues