Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Cym. Fitting my bounty, and thy state, Ile giue it:
Cym. Y
Cym. The Tragedy of Cymbeline.
Cym. Yea, though thou do demand a Prisoner
Cym. The Noblest tane.
Imo. Imo.
Imo. I humbly thanke your Highnesse.
Luc. Luc.
Luc. I do not bid thee begge my life, good Lad,
Luc. And yet I know thou wilt.
Imo. No, no, alacke,
Imo. There's other worke in hand: I see a thing
Imo. Bitter to me, as death: your life, good Master,
Imo. Must shuffle for it selfe.
Luc. The Boy disdaines me,
Luc. He leaues me, scornes me: briefely dye their ioyes,
Luc. That place them on the truth of Gyrles, and Boyes.
Luc. Why stands he so perplext?