Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Bel. Though you did loue this youth, I blame ye not,
Bel. You had a motiue for't.
Cym. Cym.
Cym. My teares that fall
Cym. Proue holy‑water on thee; Imogen,
Cym. Thy Mothers dead.
Imo. Imo.
Imo. I am sorry for't, my Lord.
Cym. Oh, she was naught; and long of her it was
Cym. That we meet heere so strangely: but her Sonne
Cym. Is gone, we know not how, nor where.
Pisa. Pisa.
Pisa. My Lord,
Pisa. Now feare is from me, Ile speake troth. Lord Cloten
Pisa. Vpon my Ladies missing, came to me
Pisa. With his Sword drawne, foam'd at the mouth, and swore
Pisa. If I discouer'd not which way she was gone,
Pisa. It was my instant death. By accident,
Pisa. I had a feigned Letter of my Masters